


A Destiny in Green

by Synthpop



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gay Panic, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor Symbioshipping, Minor Visionshipping, Shrimpshipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-03 07:49:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11527803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synthpop/pseuds/Synthpop
Summary: Rex and Weevil have entered, and lost, every Duel Monsters tournament except one: a tag-format tourney sponsored by Industrial Illusions. Weevil convinces Rex to compete with him but, to Rex’s horror, he neglects to mention that the tournament takes place on a couples’ cruise liner. In order to win the competition, he and Weevil must pretend to be in a relationship and learn how to work as a team, lest they ruin their final chance of winning a Duel Monsters title.(fake-dating; written for shrimpshipping week 2k17)





	1. Interest

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! Some general warnings: this fic will feature a lot of swearing, including derogatory slurs against homosexuals. Please be cautious!  
> This was written for [Shrimpshipping Week 2017](http://eleanorose123.tumblr.com/post/161293594442/shrimpshipping-week-hi-everyone-if-youve-ever). It's seven chapters long, each chapter themed (vaguely) around the given prompts. If you’re reading along in the present, one chapter will be uploaded each day for the next week. Most of the tags reference future chapters -- please be patient throughout the week, and all shall be revealed!! If you’re reading this in the future, please give your robot lover a kiss for me. 
> 
> Thank you!

Rex Raptor had entered a lot of Duel Monsters tournaments. Technically speaking, he had entered _every_ Duel Monsters tournament—at least those recognized by Industrial Illusions and KaibaCorp. He used to be pretty hot shit at tourneys, though things had gone downhill after Duelist Kingdom. He blamed multiple causes: trading away his Red-Eyes to some punk, getting cheated out of his spot in Battle City, and almost having his soul devoured by an ancient Lovecraftian monstrosity were among the top.

He had lost his fire. Not placing at any official tournaments for the past five years would do that to a guy.

Every official tournament—except one.

“The Cecelia Cup,” Rex read aloud as he inspected the ticket in his hand. Posing next to the sparkling font of the name was a mascot character: the Duel Monsters card Happy Lover, grinning brightly and shooting a heart-shaped beam from its forehead. It was cute, but in a gross kind of way—the kind of cute reserved for the pink aisles at toy stores and animal rescue organizations.

“Oh, that’s good—you can read. I had my doubts.”

The brat who had told him about this competition was one Weevil Underwood, professional Duelist and asshole alike. He was in much the same rut as Rex as of late—he had peaked a few years back and was currently struggling to crack top fifty. He was ranked higher than Rex, sure, but that wasn’t saying all that much.

Rex ignored the comment from Weevil and instead focused on their surroundings as they queued up along the pier. It was a strange turn-out for a tournament, he noticed: card game competitions tended to attract the big, sweaty neckbeard types, with scantily-clad Dark Magician Girls posing lewdly on their card sleeves. However, he couldn’t see any creeps (save for Weevil) anywhere; everybody looked pretty normal, actually. Like, weirdly normal.

“What kinda tourney is this?” Rex muttered. “I’ve never heard of it before. Ya sure it’s sponsored by Industrial Illusions?”

“Of course it is, moron,” Weevil shot back. “I wouldn’t have bothered coming all this way if it wasn’t.”

Something was still off. “Nngh. It’s just… why haven’t I heard of it?” He scratched his hair under his red-knit beanie. “I guess it’s ’cuz I never play tag games? Yeah, that’s gotta be it. You owe me for this, by the way.”

“ _I_ owe _you_? Hah!” Weevil’s laughter was high, nasally, maybe a little snotty. He always spoke as if he had a bad cold or too much spit in his mouth. It was disgusting, but Rex had learned to tune it out after years of knowing him.

“If anything, you owe _me_!” Oh, Weevil was still going. Yeesh, of course he was. “I could’ve teamed up with anybody—you just happened to be the first person I asked. You should feel honored!”

“I feel somethin’, all right.” More _annoyed_ than _honored_ , though. Maybe a little smug, too—yeah, like hell Weevil had anyone to ask other than him. Not that Rex had anybody else, either.

The tournament wasn’t structured like a regular Duel Monsters tournament, either. Along with being in two-versus-two format, Weevil had mentioned in passing that the entire tourney was one week-long excursion on, judging by their current whereabouts, a boat. Rex didn’t know what it was with Industrial Illusions and boats. Pegasus must’ve had a thing for them. (Rex didn’t. Boats brought back bad memories of being cheated out of luxury rooms by blonde broads.)

The boat—the _S.S. Kajiki_ , judging by the black-edged letters stenciled along the hull—was massive. It looked even larger than the yacht that had ferried him to Duelist Kingdom. Speaking of, this whole shebang felt a helluva lot like Duelist Kingdom: if he stood on his tip-toes, Rex could see that there were guards stationed on the gangway leading from the ship to the dock, checking people’s tickets before they were allowed on-board.

Weevil, who had been glued to his phone during the entirety of their queue, glanced up once they were third in line. He pocketed the device and, after a couple of seconds of awkward silence, coughed into his fist. Rex wondered if he was trying to be sly—trying, and failing.

“You need somethin’?” Rex asked.

Weevil smacked a finger to his lips in a shushing motion. He looked over his right shoulder, then his left.

“Listen up,” he hissed through his teeth. Rex had to bend down and shimmy closer in order to hear him. “Okay, remember how I said that this wasn’t a normal tournament?”

“No shit. It’s on a boat.”

His snarky comment was rewarded with a jab in the ribs from Weevil’s bony elbow.

“Eerugh—hey! What the hell was that for, ya little—?!”

“There’s more to it than that,” Weevil said, cutting off Rex’s complaints. He glanced around again, nervously; his lips were puckered into an unflattering shape, and his nails were down to the cuticle with how frequently he had been gnawing at them.

“More? Like what?” Rex ran through the options in his mind. Would they have to collect Star Chips? Locator Cards? “Oh god, Weeves, don’t tell me we have to mug a guy and take his identity again. I’m tryin’a clean up my image a little, y’know?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Weevil snapped. “It’s not like that. It’s just—ugh, there’s no time to explain.”

“No time? You were standing there in silence for the last three fuckin’ hours!” He had been giving him the creeps. Like, more so than usual.

“Don’t question me, you—”

The duo in front of them moved up a spot in line to talk to the guards. Rex and Weevil were up next. For some reason, that got Weevil to shut up—huh, he had never taken issue with verbally assaulting Rex in public in the past. Weird.

“You have to follow my lead,” Weevil said, his voice a whisper.

Rex didn’t bother whispering in response. “We’ll see about that. Again: not gonna beat anyone up.”

Weevil’s eyebrow visibly ticked. “You have to act natural. If you don’t act natural, they’re going to kick us out—and you want to win this tournament, right?”

“‘Act natural?”’ What was that supposed to mean? How was he supposed to act—?

“Next in line, please,” the guard called.

Weevil nearly jumped out of his skin—like a shedding snake, Rex thought.

“Be cool and _don’t say anything_ ,” he said without moving his lips, and then he sauntered up to the guard. Rex followed, although his mind was abuzz with about sixty-five million questions.

The guard wasn’t much of a guard of all—rather, she was a petite woman, with auburn-bobbed hair and a short skirt-suit that matched all of the other “guards.” She looked nothing like the goons patrolling Duelist Kingdom (then again, Rex heard rumors after the fact that Duelist Kingdom had been some weird cover operation involving kidnapped children and magic Egyptian nonsense, so maybe this was Industrial Illusions was attempting to clean up their image).

She greeted them warmly. “Welcome aboard the _S.S. Kajiki_! We’re happy to have you participating in the Cecelia Cup!” She held out her hand: long fingers, painted nails. “May I see your tickets, please?”

Rex glanced over at Weevil, still trying to deduce what he was going on about before. He didn’t find any solace with him, though—instead, the instant the usher started speaking, Weevil metamorphosed. The ugly, wound-tight expression that Rex had thought was permanently stuck on his face melted away into an upbeat beam.

“Of course,” he said, pleasant, and handed over his ticket. Jeez, it really _was_ a weird tourney if it had the power to make Weevil _pleasant_. The guy was never pleasant; even when (Rex assumed) he was happy, like when he crushed tiny children at trading card games or clevered his way out of some sticky situation, he was always _ruthless_ about it. His damn laugh—hee-hee, hyohyo, whatever it was—drove Rex up the fucking wall. And—oh, _why_ had he agreed to enter this stupid tourney with him? On a boat? For a _week_? He could already feel the migraine settling in and, god, he could hear that splitting laughter reverberating in his mind—hyohyohyo, hee-hee-hee—that shit wasn’t going to let him sleep, he could say that for a fact—

A quiet cough from the usher, followed shortly by a (surprisingly gentle) nudge from Weevil, startled him out of his winding thoughts.

“Huh? Oh.” He held the ticket out for the woman to take. “Spaced out there for a second. Sorry ’bout that.”

“No worries!” If anything, the woman found humor in it. After taking Rex’s ticket, she turned to Weevil: “Aren’t you adorable! Do you mind if I ask how long you two have been together? Though I do hope I’m not prying.”

What.

“Don’t worry about it at all!” Weevil’s tone was slimy-sweet; Rex knew from experience that that tone was reserved specifically for fooling shmucks. He reached over and—wait, what the fuck?—hooked a hand around Rex’s waist and pulled him close, so that their hips were—touching—wait, no seriously, _what_ —?

“We’ve been together for… oh, how many years has it been?” Weevil looked up at Rex, baiting a response. When one didn’t come in twenty milliseconds, he continued: “I think it’s been five years, now? Yes, that sounds right. We kept it secret for a while—we met through our shared interest in Duel Monsters, and… well, if people had known that the National Champion and the runner-up were, ah.” He smoothed his voice into that of a murmur and gave Rex’s hip a squeeze (like, a real meaty-ass squeeze, too—and his hand was _way_ closer to his ass than his hip). “If they found out we were _together_ , there might’ve been a bit of a stir.”

The woman bobbed her head along to Weevil’s bullshit, her eyes wide with wonder. “Oh, I see! National Champion and the runner-up, oh my… talk about star-crossed lovers!”

“Yes,” Weevil purred. “Luckily, I think we got our happy ending. Don’t you agree, honey?”

Oh god—that “honey” was aimed at _Rex_.

Rex looked at Weevil in abject horror, eyes bulging and jaw slack. What was he _supposed_ to say? “ _Get your pervy hands off of me, fag_ ” came to mind, followed quickly by the thought of turning tail and sprinting off the pier as fast as his short legs would carry him.

Before Rex could do either, Weevil giggled at him and smiled. It wasn’t a smile that Rex recognized on him—it was softer than the smirks he wore when terrorizing opponents. It made him seem younger, kinder, and remarkably less obnoxious. Rex could appreciate it up-close-and-personal because of, you know, Weevil’s goddamn hand on his goddamn ass squishing their goddamn hips together—

“He’s a little shy,” Weevil said.

The attendant nodded sympathetically. “Don’t worry about it! We’ll do our best to cater to your needs, so please try to relax!” She faced Rex in particular and, flashing a pearly smile, said with the upmost sincerity: “The Cecelia Cup and the crew aboard the _S.S. Kajiki_ welcome all couples, regardless of gender or sexual orientation—you needn’t be modest! Please relax and enjoy your cruise!”

Cruise.

Sexual orientation.

Weevil’s hand on his ass.

The gears in Rex’s head were cranking, albeit very, very slowly.

“Thank you so much,” Weevil was saying, his visage hazy in Rex’s mind.

“Of course! Here are your tickets back: your room is on deck three, section six. Don’t hesitate to ask an attendant if you need help finding it!”

“Thank you! You are so, so kind.”

“Not at all! Also, the Duel Monsters tournament starts tomorrow at nine A.M. sharp—don’t miss it!”

Tournament. Right, tournament—this was supposed to be a tournament. But it was a really weird tournament: it was a tag tournament. On a boat.

A boat Weevil was actively shoving him in the direction of.

Rex took another look at their competitors milling on the gangway alongside them. There were no NEETs, no shady people shuffling around in corners with their fedoras and doujinshi. No, all of their competitors were in groups of two, most of them smiling—and touching.

There was a teenager and his girlfriend making out in-line.

There was a middle-aged man and his wife sharing a melting ice cream cone.

There was a dumbass, creepy bug-boy with his hand slung around Rex’s waist.

As soon as they cleared the initial crowd and entered into the interior of the cruise liner, Weevil yanked away from Rex as if he just been bitten.

“I can’t believe that worked,” he muttered to himself. “She didn’t even look at the tickets, the idiot. Though they’re pretty good fakes, if I do say so myself.”

The interior of the boat was chock-full of even more damning evidence: couples sprawled over one another in reclining chairs, couples holding hands as they hurried towards their next destination. Rex caught a glimpse of a holographic, 3D map of the boat rotating near the ceiling above him: multi-colored dots and labels indicated dance clubs, spas, theatres, wine bars, pools, and buffets. Above the map were written the words (in bubbly, blood-red font): “THE CECELIA CUP WELCOMES THE BOTH OF YOU!”

Next to the map was a floating hologram of the cruise’s mascot. Happy Lover grinned at him judgmentally.

“You fucking idiot,” were the first words out of Rex’s mouth.

Weevil looked at him. “You were crap out there, by the way. Could you have _looked_ more horrified? It was like you were trying to catch flies, with your mouth hanging open like that.”

“You fucking _idiot_ ,” Rex repeated.

“Okay—it’s a weird tournament, I admit that. But—”

“That’s because it’s not a tournament, you dumb shit!” Rex gestured around him, arms spread wide. He almost ended up clonking a couple walking behind them in the face, though he didn’t care. “This is a _couples’ cruise_!”

“Not true,” Weevil said. “The Cecelia Cup is a Duel Monsters tournament—the only officially-sponsored tag-format tournament in existence. It just so happens to take place on a luxury cruise liner and only accept romantic partners as participants. It’s flavor.”

Rex felt the desire to claw at his eyes, as if ripping them from their sockets would somehow help the situation at hand. “Oh my god. Oh my _god_. This isn’t happening to me. Wake up, Raptor, c’mon….”

“For the duration of this trip, you and I are going to have to pose as a couple.” Weevil pushed up his glasses. The light glared off of them in a way that simultaneously hid his eyes and blinded Rex. “We’re not married, but we’re fairly invested in one another, as we have been for five years. We didn’t mention our relationship publicly because we were afraid of ridicule.”

“You have _backstory_! You were fuckin’ prepared for this!”

Weevil rolled his eyes. “Calm down, you wimp. This whole thing is stupid, I agree—but because of how the tournament is limited to couples, it doesn’t garner the attention of high-level players. So, basically—this tournament is mine for the taking.”

“You mean _ours_ ,” Rex corrected. He felt the need to add, “ _Honey_.”

“Don’t you get it? We actually have a chance of winning a title this time!” Weevil smiled, and—ah, there was the smirk Rex knew. Ugly and screwy, just like the rest of Weevil. “Hyohyo, no King of Games, no KaibaCorp heirs… just us against a boatload full of shmucks who’re only here for the wine bar. It’s perfect. Ingenious, really.”

“No, it’s not. It’s stupid.” Rex crossed his arms. “And I’m not going along with it.”

“Why not? Don’t you want to win? This is the perfect opportunity!”

“Of course I wanna win, but this isn’t worth it! I’m not going to pretend to be your fuckin’ boy-toy just to win some modified-tag-format title!”

Rex looked down at the tacky ticket in his hand.

“Fuck this,” he said, then ripped the ticket in two. Right down the middle of Happy Lover’s heart-shaped forehead. Poetic.

Weevil gasped, his smirk falling from his face. “Ack—you _idiot_! Do you know how much I had to pay for those?!” He snatched the two pieces of ticket out of Rex’s hands. “Tape—we need to find tape! How are we supposed to get into our room without our tickets, you Mesozoic moron?”

“ _Your_ room,” Rex said. “I’m outta here. Have fun on your love cruise, queer.”

He spun around on his heel, back towards the direction they came. The last few flocks of people were gradually spilling in. He needed to hurry—they had been near the end of the line to begin with.

However, as soon as he put his first foot forward, the boat lurched forward and knocked him off-balance. A foghorn blared, making both boys (and around ninety-percent of the other couples) flinch in surprise.

“Wait,” Rex said as he recovered his bearings. “The boat just moved. Why did the boat move?”

A pleasant jingle chimed through the cruise liner’s intercoms. After a few notes, a voice began to speak: “The sixth annual Cecelia Cup is now underway!”

There was a smattering of applause. Rex wasn’t paying much attention, though—he was too busy realizing that while he had been arguing with Weevil, a red-velvet rope had been tied up on either side of the entrance to the rolled-up gangway behind them.

“Wait,” he said again. “Wait. No. Hang on. Wait.”

He heard Weevil snickering up a storm. “Well, well. Looks like you missed your chance, hmm?”

The foghorn sang for a second time. He felt the boat reeling and shifting beneath him. Right, he had forgotten how badly boats sucked.

“No. No—no, we just got on! We hafta still be on the dock! Shit!”

Rex booked it to the first usher he could find. This one was a man, wearing a prim uniform that complemented the girls’.

He bowed at Rex’s approach. “What can I help you with, sir?”

 _“Let me off the fucking boat_!”

The usher blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“Didja not hear me?” Rex raised his voice—maybe if he started screaming, this dipshit would understand the sheer direness of his predicament. “I toldja to let me off the boat!”

 _Hyos_ interspersed with _hehs_ were swelling behind him. Rex was going to deck him.

“My apologies, sir, but the cruise is already underway,” the usher said. “We won’t return to port for another week, after the cruise and the Cup have reached their conclusions.”

“Don’t make me say it a third time, buddy—let me off the boat! Don’tcha know who I am?”

He was Rex Raptor, runner-up at the Duel Monsters National Championships five years ago.

Was he honestly supposed to say that? Who gave a shit about a five-year-old victory? Scratch that—who gave a shit about a five-year-old _runner-up_?

“I’m a paying customer,” he decided to say. “And if I wanna get off the boat, ya let me off the boat!”

“I’m sorry, sir, but there’s nothing I can do.” The usher bowed, formally. “There are many facilities on the _S.S. Kajiki_ that are guaranteed to relax the mind and soothe the soul. If you take advantage of them, I promise that the week will fly by faster than you can imagine.”

He wasn’t getting off the boat.

Rex’s posture slumped forward, like he had just been saddled with the weight of a thousand _Brachiosaurus_.

He was just contemplating throwing himself overboard and swimming to shore when he felt a hand pat his shoulder and Weevil’s breath on his cheek.

“Rexy gets a little nervous on boats,” Weevil said to the usher, smarminess back in full throttle. “Honey, why don’t we find our room? If you go to bed early, you’ll sleep off your seasickness.”

“Call me ‘honey’ one more time, I dare ya,” warned Rex.

“Oho, aren’t you grumpy!” Weevil squeezed Rex’s shoulder hard enough to leave little crescent-shaped scars from his nubby nails. “Come on, let’s go!” He tried giving Rex a shove, but he remained staunch in place. “Onward! Forward! To better places!” He added in a fierce whisper: “Move your ass, you dinosaur dickweed, before I beat it into the next era.”

Rex felt his migraine threaten to split his head open.

He was in the middle of the ocean, trapped on a goddamn couples’ cruise with Weevil Underwood. It sounded like his personal circle of hell, or maybe a Freudian nightmare.

Rex craned his head to look Weevil in the eye. He was way too close—Rex’s nose almost bumped into his glasses. He could feel his breath roll hot over his lips, plagued with the fake sweetness of that grimy smile he had plastered on.

Well, he was stuck.

And while he was stuck, he might as well win this stupid tournament.

“That isn’t a very nice thing to say to your _boyfriend_ ,” Rex said, then reached around to give Weevil’s ass a very hard, very audible _smack_.

Weevil yelped and leapt about fifty yards away from him. It was amazing how quickly his face changed color, from unhealthy pale into an even unhealthier scarlet. He opened his mouth to say something—yell at him, if Rex were to guess—but he noticed that the ushers and straggling couples had stopped what they were doing to stare at them.

“Screw you,” he mumbled silently, though Rex knew him well enough to recognize the words by the movement of his lips alone. He turned and skulked in a random direction, away from Rex and into the denizens of Happy Lovers and competitors of the Cecelia Cup.

Rex hurried after him. He still had his ticket—and besides, he didn’t know where their room was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoooo baby I busted this whole thing out just last week!! it’s not polished in the slightest, since I wanted to get it out on time. I hope it’s acceptable -- sorry for any glaring inconsistencies or anything like that, hahahaha. but I'm very happy to be participating in an event dedicated to these two sweet creeps: I love them dearly!
> 
> If you’re reading this, make sure to check out the other Shrimpshipping Week works on AO3 and tumblr and give them a lot of love! Speaking of tumblr, you can find mine at [chumpasaurus.tumblr.com](http://chumpasaurus.tumblr.com/). Just a little. Y’know. Self-plug. yeah......
> 
> Thank you so, so much for reading! I hope you enjoy!


	2. Rivalry

Rex and Weevil were assigned one room to share throughout the duration of the Cecelia Cup Couples’ Cruise Hellscape Extravaganza. It was moderately well-furnished: one fluffy king-sized bed, a desk, some fake plants. Their bathroom had a bidet with a thousand buttons on it, as well as a real fancy sideways shower that took Rex thirty minutes to figure out.

One thing that the room lacked, though, was a couch. Rex supposed that made sense: while the room was cozy, it wasn’t cozy enough to make him feel welcome. _Get out and do fun things on the ship_ , the interior designer would’ve heckled. _C’mon, don’t you want to taste the selection at the wine bar? With your new boyfriend?_

“I’m taking the bed,” Weevil announced after Rex returned from his shower. He already had his luggage spread out over the mattress—specifically, his entire Duel Monsters card collection was lined up in a neatly-arranged grid.

Rex wrung out the water from his still-soaked hair onto the carpet. He didn’t bring his own shampoo, so he used the complementary one the cruise provided. He now smelled of whatever the hell _Sweet_ _Island Rhythm_ was (vaguely fruity). “I don’t want to share a bed either, jackass—but where am I supposed to sleep?”

“The floor,” Weevil answered.

“No way! I’m no good on the floor!”

“I’m the one who found this tournament and got us in! You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me!”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t be here! The very least you could do after getting me involved in your weird, gay scheme is let me sleep on the bed!”

After an hour’s worth of more arguing, Rex ended up on the floor. He made sure to give Weevil hell for it the next morning.

“Would you shut up about your stupid _back_ ,” Weevil scolded him. He was pretty half-hearted about it—most of his attention was preoccupied with scrutinizing his deck. He kept muttering to himself: “Strategies, strategies… focus on Summoning enough monsters to Tribute for Insect Queen—the stupid dinosaurs can protect her eggs… draw fodder, attack redirection, it should be _flawless_ ….”

“But it hurts,” Rex whined, trying—and failing—to rub out the tension accruing along his spine. “It was all stiff and hard—I’m gonna be sore for days! Couldja go a little easier on me tonight?”

He heard one of the couples sitting at the table adjacent to them snicker, though he didn’t know why.

The Cecelia Cup Duel Monsters tournament was divided into four groups—A, B, C, and D—each with their own separate brackets, for ease of access. The winners of the four divisions would go on to the semifinals, whereupon the two winners from that round would battle it out for ultimate victory. Rex didn’t think it was fair—why not just put everybody into the same division?—but, so long as they crushed their opponents, the formatting didn’t really matter.

Team Raptor-Underwood was slapped into the C group. They were currently in the middle of waiting for their opponents to arrive, while the other thousand-odd couples around them played their first round. Their opponents were late: with each minute that ticked by with nobody across from them, Rex grew more annoyed, and Weevil grew more anxious.

“Five more minutes and they’re disqualified,” Rex grumbled, checking the clock projected onto the wall. “If you’re not gonna be on time for the first round of the tourney, ya can’t care all that much about winning.”

“They could be confident,” Weevil said. He was gnawing at his fingernails again. Occasionally, little flecks of nail would get stuck in between his two front teeth, and he had to pick harder in order to wedge them out—which only resulted in _more_ nail stuck in his teeth, in some sort of gross feedback loop of poor hygiene. Rex should’ve looked away, but—like a train-wreck or meteor impact—he just couldn’t tear his eyes away from something so tragic.

Rex was about to reply with something snappy, when he heard the chair on the side of the table across from them pull back with a shriek.

“I’m so sorry! We got up really late, and then we couldn’t find the gaming hall—I mean, I don’t know how we missed it, considering it’s so gigantic. But nobody was around to ask, really, so that made it even worse….”

Rex didn’t care for apologies—especially half-assed ones made up of excuses—but something about the way the guy spoke caught his attention. It sounded familiar.

Rex looked up at the owner of the voice. He was met with the sight of another man around his own age, with long, seafoam-green hair and blue eyes. He was wearing a pink sweater—seriously, a sweater? The cruise ship was humid as hell, it being in the middle of the tropical ocean and all. Rex had kept his beanie, but he had switched up his normal jacket for a green tank-top and jean shorts. Even Weevil wasn’t wearing a sweater, and that was definitely saying—argh, wait, keep it together! The man didn’t just sound familiar—he _looked_ familiar, too!

“I don’t care about your excuses,” Weevil said from Rex’s side. He rapped his knuckles on the table. “Let’s hurry up and Duel.”

The man nodded his head. “Right, right! Sorry, let’s get to it!” He quickly took a seat in the chair opposite the two of them, then glanced over his shoulder. “C’mon, Mako, let’s go!”

Towering behind the familiar guy was another man, who… also looked familiar, holy hell. He had a long, well-defined face, with a tan that somehow reached every inch of his exposed skin, even beneath the straps of his loose tank-top. His black hair was pulled into a ponytail, and—jeez, that smile was _nuclear_.

“You got it!” Mako said in a boisterously loud voice Rex was certain was going to get real old real fast. He took a seat beside Espa.

Wait, _Espa_? How did he know—oh.

“Hey,” Rex said, pointing a finger, “you’re Espa Roba, ain’tcha?”

“Huh? Uh—yes, I am.” Espa tilted his head, and his long hair fell into his eyes. “Have we met somewhere before?”

“Why do you know gay people?” Weevil asked, low enough for their cover not to be compromised.

Rex ignored him, instead focusing on Espa. “Do ya not remember who I am? Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t—why would a cheater remember his opponents? It’s not like ya actually Dueled against me.”

That made Espa’s face fall grim.

“Oh,” he said. “ _Oh_. You—you were in Battle City, weren’t you?”

“Battle City?” said Mako.

“Battle City?” said Weevil. “Wasn’t that the tournament you lost after your first Duel?”

“Hey, didn’t you get kicked out of Duelist Kingdom after _your_ first Duel?” Rex snapped back. “But yeah, I did lose. But only ’cuz this phony ‘psychic’ was cheating and lookin’ at my cards! He took my Serpent Night Dragon from me!”

Weevil’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t have very much luck with dragons, do you? Maybe you should stick to dinosaurs.”

“That’s not the point, asshole—!”

Espa held up his hands. “Umm… yes, I did cheat in Battle City. I admit that. But, umm, that was a dumb decision, and I haven’t done anything like it in years.” He looked over at Mako, biting his lip. “I swear, I haven’t cheated since! I only did it because people were bullying my little brothers, and—”

Before Espa could finish his sob story, Mako clapped him hard on the back. It sounded painful—Espa even jumped a little. Heavy hands, maybe.

“Do not worry,” Mako assured with a nod of his head. “What you did in the past is in the past! Time flows like the currents of the sea: if you try to swim against the current rather than with it, you will never move forward.”

Espa blinked. “You—you mean that?” He sniffed and—what the hell, the guy looked close to tears. What a weirdo. “Mako… you’re so kind—!”

“Only to you. Everybody else, Mako sinks—with no hesitation!” And then he pressed a kiss to the top of Espa’s head.

Rex was going to throw up.

“We gotta win,” he said to Weevil, feeling his desperation tauten in his throat.

“Oh, your rivalry with him is _palpable_.” Weevil cackled into his palm. “Hee-hee-hee—I was planning on winning. But there’s something I need to take care of, first.”

“Hah? What do ya—?”

“I’m sorry to hear that you and Rex have a bad history.” That slimy tone of Weevil’s was back again, even grimier than before. He leaned forward on the table, propping his head up with his knuckles. “Rex wasn’t the nicest person back then, either—but he’s changed, that I can assure you.”

Espa looked like he wanted to spend more time gushing with Mako, but Weevil’s comment brought him back to the matter at hand.

“I don’t recall him being mean,” Espa said as he pulled out his deck.

“No, trust me—he was _mean_. Always putting on a big show to scare his opponents off—he came in second in the National Championships a few years back, you know.”

“The National Championships?” Espa awed. “Whoa, that’s pretty good!”

“Second place!” said Mako. “Impressive! I used to compete at the National level, but I never placed.”

Rex glared at Weevil—what the hell was he _doing_?—but he was being ignored.

“He’s mellowed out, though—haven’t you, Rex?” Weevil’s hand snaked down to give his thigh a firm squeeze. Rex flinched—damn it, he didn’t have to be so _handsy_! “I must’ve had some sort of effect on him, hmm?”

Espa began shuffling his deck. “I guess so. But he’s still pretty angry, isn’t he?”

“Angry? What’s that supposed to mean, buddy—?”

“Oh, that’s just his face,” said Weevil. “It’s the eyes—they make him look angry no matter what. Say, Espa,” he segued into an even sweeter tone, “would you cut my deck?”

“Huh? Cut it? Just, like, in half? Sure.” Espa smiled, good-naturedly. “Do you want to cut mine, too?”

“I would be happy to,” Weevil said. Rex recognized that smirk on his face—that was his _scheming_ smirk. His _let’s-hide-in-a-suitcase-and-travel-illegally-to-America_ smirk, his _let’s-trade-our-souls-for-this-really-cool-trading-card_ smirk, his _you’ll-never-believe-what-I-just-did-to-Yugi-Muto’s-Exodia-cards_ smirk.

The motion was quick: Weevil and Espa exchanged decks, each cutting the other’s in half and swapping the top and bottom. Rex watched Weevil’s fingers for some sign of debauchery, but his unskilled eyes couldn’t catch anything. He had to have done _something_ , though, for the pealing of his laughter when he returned Espa’s deck was deafening.

“Hyo-hyo—let’s Duel!”

 

***

 

As it turned out, neither Rex nor Weevil were very familiar with how tag Duels functioned.

“You can’t target Espa! You can only target the player sitting across from you, dumbass!”

“Yeah, well, you can’t sacrifice my monsters to feed your creepy-looking bug mannequin, either!”

“I most certainly _can_!”

Whenever allotted, Espa and Mako were more than happy to educate them on the rules (were they taking this seriously? You weren’t supposed to help out your opponents!). Eventually, the two of them got the swing of things: it was just a normal Duel with two opponents to worry about instead of one. It was a little lame to play with the miniature holographic tables—watching a beefed-up Sword Arm of Dragon shred into a Fortress Whale was remarkably less satisfying when they were only a couple of inches tall.

It was a heated match: Espa’s psychic monsters did crazy things with the Graveyard and banishing, while Mako kept buffing his fish with Field Spells. Rex’s offensive dinosaurs were able to stomp his opponents’ monsters down, while Weevil focused more on technical play as he protected them both with Traps and Spells.

“Since Great White is Equipped with Steel Shell, it has enough Attack Points to take down your Crawling Dragon Number Two, even if it’s being boosted with your Jurassic World Field Spell,” Mako said, wiping at his brow. “Great White, wipe out Crawling Dragon Number Two!”

“I don’t think so,” Weevil said, then flipped over one of his Set cards. “My Trap card, Ring of Destruction, destroys one of your monsters that has Attack less than your remaining Life Points. So—I destroy your Great White!”

“But you take damage equal to the Attack of the destroyed monster!” pointed out Espa, craning over to read the text on the card.

Rex sent Weevil a sidelong glance. They had shared Life Points—they had to be careful with how they used them.

Weevil, apparently feeling Rex’s look, smirked as if to say _I have a plan_ , then continued with the game: “I take damage equal to the Attack of the destroyed monster, but so do you! That brings our life points down to 4000, and yours—down to 3000! And Mako is left with no monsters on his side of the Field!”

Mako swore under his breath. “Ugh—fine, that ends my turn.”

“It’s my turn, then,” said Weevil. He drew a card from the top of his deck and, when he read the name, cackled.

“Got somethin’ good?” Rex asked in a low voice. “You better’ve. Your Insect Queen’s scary egg-things are a sitting duck for the three of Espa’s monsters. He could kill you in his next turn.”

Weevil hummed, drumming his fingers against the table. “Well, I could easily take him out now—but that would require me doing a very _nasty_ thing to my beautiful Queen. I’m not sure if I can betray her like that.”

“Hey,” Rex growled, “we’re on a team, here. You still got Crawling Dragon Number Two and Sword Arm of Dragon to back you up.”

“I know that! But the thought of sacrificing myself for _you_ , of all people, really bugs me.”

“Love is all about sacrifice,” Rex said.

Weevil scrunched his nose, ruffled, and made a clicking noise with his tongue. “Ugh, fine. You owe me big time for this one, Raptor.”

“Yeah, I’ll take you to the spa or somethin’.”

“From my hand, I activate the Spell card Reckless Parasite,” Weevil said at his normal volume, playing the card on the field. “It Special Summons the monster Parasite Paracide from your deck—Espa’s deck—onto the field in Attack position!”

Espa stared dumbly at the card. In a few seconds, the Spell materialized onto the virtual game mat in the form of an ugly, gangly pest. Rex felt the urge to squish it.

“Umm,” said Espa, “I hate to say it, but I don’t have that card in my deck.”

“You don’t?” Weevil batted his eyelashes. “Humor me and check.”

Espa’s frown deepened, but he did indeed pick up his deck to fan through the cards. A few seconds passed before a strangled noise ripped through his throat.

“What the—? How did this get in here?!”

Mako leaned over to check Espa’s deck. “Is that Parasite Paracide? Why do you run that?”

“I don’t! This isn’t mine!”

“Looks like it’s yours to me,” Weevil said.

“Did you sneak this into my deck?” Espa asked. “How?!”

See, this is why you always used card sleeves. Not that Rex condoned cheating—he’d never be caught red-handed at it himself—but hey, he wasn’t the one cheating, here.

“It was in your deck, so you have to Summon it.” Weevil clapped his hands together. “Tick tock. I don’t have all day.”

“This isn’t fair!” Espa cried. “You cheated!”

“Sucks, don’t it,” muttered Rex.

The comment struck Espa hard enough to shut him up. He even set the card down on his mat—what a good sport. The bug fizzled onto the virtual field, gnashing its fangs together.

“Parasite Paracide has a special ability,” Weevil went on. “It transforms all of your Psychic monsters into Insect types!”

Rex averted his eyes from the playing field. Bugs freaked him out—especially Parasite Paracide, what with its lanky limbs bursting through monsters’ faces like some kind of B-list horror movie. Nah, he’d pass.

“You—!” Espa’s grip on the one card in his hand tightened. “All of my Traps and Spells revolve around Psychic monsters—now none of them will work!”

“Don’t worry—your new bug buddies won’t be around for long.” With a dramatic flourish worthy of a Duel Monsters National Champion, Weevil played another Spell card from his hand. “I play Eradicating Aerosol!”

Rex’s eyebrows sprang high on his forehead. “Hah? That’s the one that—”

“—Destroys all Insect type monsters on the field,” Weevil finished for him.

“But doesn’t that include your Insect Queen? And all of her creepy little eggs?”

The aerosol can that appeared on the virtual board sprayed a pale-yellow mist thick enough to cover the whole field. When the cloud vaporized, Weevil’s Insect Queen, her eggs, Paracide Parasite, and all three of Espa’s infected Psychic monsters were gone.

“My monsters!” Espa cried, tugging at his hair.

Weevil sat back in his chair, chortling, and crossed his arms. He seemed pleased with himself, though when his eyes darted back to Rex, the smile slipped from his face.

“I destroyed my Queen to give your dumb dinos an opening. You better make sure her sacrifice wasn’t in vain.”

Rex balked. “Wait, you’re _relying_ on me? Holy crap! I never thought ya’d play well on a team.”

“I want to win,” Weevil said.

“Y’ain’t half bad!” If he kept moves like that up, they had a real shot at taking this title.

“Hey! You haven’t won yet! It’s my turn!”

Weevil rolled his eyes. “Struggle all you like—there’s no escaping from our web.”

_Our_.

For some reason, hearing that word made Rex’s stomach flutter.

“I draw!” Though, judging by the sour look on Espa’s face and the half-hidden “ _fuck_ ” from behind his hand, it must’ve been a dud. “Grr—I Set one card down and end my turn!”

“He’s trying to scare you off,” said Weevil. “It’s a bluff. End this Duel already.”

Rex didn’t need to be told twice.

“All right, it’s my turn!” Rex drew a card into his hand—Fossil Excavation, though he doubted he would need it. “All right, Crawling Dragon Number Two—attack Espa’s Life Points directly!”

The tiny dinosaur stalked up to Espa’s side of the field and chomped emptily at the air. See, this would’ve been much more cathartic (and cool) with big, virtual playing fields.

Espa didn’t flip his reverse card; he only bit his tongue and grimaced.

“Looks like it was a bluff, eh?” Rex grinned madly. “Sword Arm of Dragon, finish him off with a Sword Tail Slash!”

Sword Arm of Dragon roared, then used its spiked tail to strike at Espa. The rest of his and Mako’s combined Life Points ticked down to zero, and the holograms on the field disappeared in the blink of an eye.

They had won.

…Wait, holy shit, they _won_!

Rex spun his whole body around in his chair to face Weevil, his smile lethal. “Hey, we did it! Weeves, we totally did it!”

“Of course we did it, idiot. We’re leagues above these nobodies.” Even though he sounded disinterested, the smile pulling at the corners of his lips threatened to spoil Weevil’s cool façade.

Oh—cool, shmool! Rex grabbed both of Weevil’s shoulders and gave him a rowdy shake. “That play was super ballsy! Dumpin’ your creepy Queen just to give me an opening—that’s killer! I can’t believe Weevil Underwood, of all people, was lookin’ out for me!”

“Let—go—of—me,” Weevil said in rhythm to Rex’s shakes.

“Jeez! Keep doing stuff like that, and I might start to think ya actually like me!”

“Don’t be ridiculous—I’ll _never_ like you.”

Rex glanced over at their duo of opponents. Espa had stood up and was prattling furiously, while Mako attempted to calm him down with pats on the shoulder.

“They’re total cheaters!” Espa was saying. His face was reddening at an alarming rate—he looked kind of like a Mystic Tomato. “That _slime_ snuck that card into my deck! That’s unacceptable!”

“It’s Weevil Underwood,” Mako replied. “Now I remember the name: he’s famous for his dirty tricks.”

“Why is he even participating? This is supposed to be for fun!” He pointed accusingly at the two of them. “Didn’t you hear how they talked? They _hate_ each other! I don’t even think they’re a real couple!”

Weevil stiffened beneath Rex’s touch.

“That is quite a far-fetched conclusion. People show their love for each other in different ways.”

“No, I heard about it from some other Duelists yesterday—people try to compete in this tournament all the time in fake relationships! Smaller bracket, easier to win!”

Shit. Shit shit _shit_ , he was onto them.

He and Weevil shared a mutual look of “oh, fuck.”

Mako’s brows crumpled together. “It seems like a terrible amount of effort just to win a small tournament.”

“Sounds like a ‘dirty trick,’ doesn’t it?”

Weevil cleared his throat. He looked jittery: his nails were back at his teeth. Rex wondered how the hell he had any nail left to chew.

“I-I’ll never like you,” he said quietly, “because I already love you.”

The cheese hit Rex like a stampeding _Styracosaurus_. It got Espa and Mako’s attention, though: they stopped their conversation to observe.

Crap, how was he supposed to respond to that? How did couples interact? Rex’s knowledge on romantic matters was limited to the shitty pre-sex acting in pornography, and he didn’t want to bust out the big guns _yet_.

He rubbed at the back of his neck—oh god, he was sweating. Had he been sweating the whole time? The cruise ship was pretty humid, so it was a high possibility….

Weevil nudged his knee. _Say something, stupid_ , he said with his eyes.

“I-I love ya more.” He felt lame the second he said it. “Ya did really great! It was a super good play, and sacrificing yourself for me and all—it was….” He thought about the right word. “Uh, it was romantic!”

“Romantic?” Weevil squawked. “Why would you—?”

“That’s why I love ya!” Rex was quick to interrupt. “You’re ruthless! Cutthroat! But when ya got a goal, you’re willin’ to fight for it no matter what!”

Weevil snapped his mouth shut. Rex figured that was his cue to keep going.

“I don’t really like cheatin’, y’know. I think it’s a pretty shit thing to do. But I, uh—I kinda admire ya for it. Ya care about winning so much, you’re willin’ to do anything it takes… it shows that ya got passion. It makes me feel kinda, I dunno, honored—like, here’s this devoted, cutthroat, passionate guy… and he chose _me_ to be his partner? What did I do to deserve that? And it makes me think, ‘Jeez, if I were as passionate as Weeves is, maybe I would actually win for once, eh?’ I mean, it’s only because of you that we won this Duel.”

“Don’t be stupid,” said Weevil. “We both did our parts.”

“Nah! I mean, yeah—I took the killin’ blow and all, but ya carried us! It was cool!”

Weevil’s gaze broke away from Rex’s. His cheeks were starting to flush pink, too—hey, that was pretty good! Rex couldn’t fake-blush on command like that!

“Yeah, super cool! Stylish!” Maybe he should push further—they had to make sure they were convincing, right? “Not gonna lie—it’s pretty _hot_ , too.”

Weevil made a noise somewhere in between “frightened bullfrog croak” and “annoyed gecko scream.” Rex took it as a positive sign.

“Seein’ ya get all competitive like that… it’s sexy.” Rex’s voice sank to a low rumble—he was trying to go for _husky_. “Makes me wanna take ya back to the room and see what other schemes that creepy little brain of yours can cook up. It’s almost too bad we won—now I don’t have any time to play with ya.”

That sounded good enough. He was satisfied with his performance; hopefully it had convinced Espa and Mako.

When he looked up to check their reactions, though, all he saw was empty space.

“Oh. They left already.” Rex scratched his cheek. “That means it worked, right? Hey, I’m a pretty good actor! Maybe I should do this for a living—whaddya think?”

Weevil was still blushing. His hand was clapped over his mouth, and his eyes were blown big and bright.

Rex whistled a note through his teeth. “Hey, you’re not half bad, either! Ya look just like a love-struck schoolgirl! It totally suits your stupid face—hah-hah-hah!”

It didn’t dawn on Rex to question why Weevil wasn’t laughing with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're actually doing well! Color me surprised!! Looks like they're on their way to victory... what could *possibly* go wrong?
> 
> My knowledge of Yu-Gi-Oh as a card game is incredibly limited. I tried looking up tag format rules, but... uh, it didn’t help much. Much like the duels in the show, I think the duels in this fic are better experienced if you don’t think too hard about them, y'know?   
> Also, I'm Sorry For The Capitalization: After Much Research Into Whether Certain Duel Monsters Names, Such As Traps Or Spells, Should Be Capitalized, I Came To The Conclusion That Yu-Gi-Oh Grammar Is Anarchy, So I Made Up My Own Rules.
> 
> Thank you for reading!!


	3. Challenge

Rex and Weevil won the rest of their Duels that day with a fair amount of ease. Rex was surprised by how well they functioned as a team: once Weevil’s technical plays wounded their opponents, Rex’s dinosaurs decimated what was left of them.

At the end of the day, they celebrated their climb up the brackets with a trip to the buffet. The place was packed with more food than Rex thought possible: rich seafood, strange vegetables, spiced noodles, soft gelato and ice cream, expensive alcohol Weevil wouldn’t let him drink (“If you get a hangover and blow this for us, I’m throwing you off the boat”)—the list went on. Rex gorged himself on free, raw-rare steak until he felt ready to hurl, while Weevil pecked at some boring greens.

Rex was curious about what the rest of the cruise had to offer, but Weevil refused to do anything besides return to their room after dinner. And like hell Rex was going to do couples’ activities by himself.

Thus, he spent another night on the floor.

They were late getting to the gaming hall the next morning—Weevil insisted on showering beforehand, then took way too long getting dressed. His outfit was stupid, to boot.

“Why are ya wearing a jacket?” Rex asked once Weevil emerged from their room (changing in front of one another was too weird, considering the circumstance). “It’s humid as hell in here. Don’tcha got anything less stuffy?”

“It’s not stuffy,” Weevil said as he straightened his bowtie. “I dress to impress—unlike _some_ people who look like they’ve crawled out of the gutter every morning.”

Rex looked down at his own outfit: a baggy green t-shirt with the Philosoraptor in his trademark pose, tan cargo shorts, and ratty gray sneakers.

“I look great,” he said, then decided to stop that conversation before Weevil could lob any more insults at him.

When they finally arrived at their assigned spot in the gaming hall, frowziness from the poorly-ventilated room causing sweat to dew along Rex’s brow, he noticed that their opponents were already there.

He also noticed that he recognized one of them. How could he forget? Tall, beautiful, busty—and a total bimbo to boot.

“Holy crap, that’s Mai Valentine,” Weevil gawped from beside him.

The woman, with her curled blonde hair and long eyelashes, glanced up at them when she heard her name. She regarded the two of them with an infuriating lack of interest.

“This one should be a piece of cake,” she said to her partner.

Wait— _partner_! If Mai was on this cruise from hell, that meant she was dating someone! Who was the shmuck that got himself saddled with Mai Valentine?

Rex looked over at the—wait a second holy shit that was a woman.

“Whoa,” he said, either to Weevil, Mai, or the universe itself, “I didn’t know Mai was a dyke.”

Mai whipped her head towards him. “What did you just say, _kiddo_?”

Weevil elbowed him hard in the gut.

“Oourgh—!” Oh, yeah—he probably shouldn’t be so vocal about that kind of stuff while he was pretending to be gay. “I mean, uh, not dyke! I meant, uh, dyk—dy—di—?”

“Dichotomy,” Weevil suggested.

“What the hell is a dykeconomy?”

Weevil breathed a terse sigh to calm himself down (before he ended up punching Rex in the face, he presumed), then slid on the sleaziest smile imaginable. “I think Rex meant to say that it’s been a long time, Mai Valentine. How are you?”

Mai’s eyes—violet, what a weird-ass color—flitted between Rex and Weevil.

“Oh,” she said after a solid thirty seconds, “It’s Weasel and Faptor, right?”

“Very funny,” said Rex. Like hell she didn’t remember them—not after all of that crap with the Leviathan or whatever. Wait, she knew about them being involved in that, didn’t she? Rex had blacked out most of those memories….

“What are you two doing here?” Mai asked. She crossed her arms under her boobs, lifting them a little—god, that pose (and that low-cut top, too) made them look even bigger than normal. “This isn’t a tournament for grubby chumps like you—it’s a couples’ cruise, you know.”

“Told you,” Rex said under his breath.

“Well, what do you think? We’re a couple, obviously.” In order to accentuate his point, Weevil snatched Rex’s hand and gave it a bone-crushing squeeze.

“Yeowch! Cool it with the _love_ , dude!”

Weevil didn’t apologize.

Mai stared at them for a couple more agonizing beats. Jeez, Rex felt like he was being judged by his mom or something—well, Mai was still hot, sure, but how old was she now? Thirty? And a dyke, too? Gross. Not that he was calling his mom a dyke—or gross—or, oh god, not _hot_ —argh, his thoughts were getting all scrambled up! Boobs tended to do that to him.

“Bullshit,” she eventually said, snapping Rex out of his sex-induced trance.

It took him a few seconds to remember where he was. “Huh? What’re you—?”

“You’re faking,” Mai clarified. “You entered this tournament because you wanted an easy win, and you have to fake being in a relationship to do it.”

What the hell.

Rex knew Mai wasn’t psychic—she was just a perfume-wearing cheater—but seriously, _what the hell._

Mai’s partner, who had been motionless up until that point, looked up at them. Rex didn’t know her (thank god), but he sort of wished he did. She was hot, too, in an exotic kind of way: dark skin, hair hidden by a cloth on her head, and mauve eyes a shade lighter than Mai’s. She wasn’t nearly as expressive as her partner: she remained as stoic as a rock, even as she spoke.

“It is not wise to judge the hearts of others by first appearances alone,” she warned, kind of like a fortune cookie.

“No, trust me—I know these guys.” Mai waved a hand in front of her face. “They hate each other. I’m surprised they’ve been able to go this long without strangling one another.”

So was Rex, to be honest.

Weevil gave him another prod in the side, along with a thorny look. _Say something_ , Rex assumed he meant.

Why him, huh? He hated Mai Valentine. The bitch had played him like a chumpasaurus back in Duelist Kingdom—wouldn’t Weevil be better suited for this?

 _Stop whining_ , Weevil’s eyes shot back. Talk about being psychic.

Well, whatever. If Weevil wasn’t going to say anything, Rex would take the fall. But only because he wanted to win this tournament, damn it!

“I dunno why it’s so difficult to believe,” Rex said. He lifted his and Weevil’s joined hands for her to see. “Love forms in the weirdest of places.”

He heard Weevil gag.

Mai cocked a plucked eyebrow. “You seriously expect me to play this game?”

“What game? Duel Monsters? That’s what we’re here for, ain’t it?”

“All right, fine.” Mai leaned back in her chair and raised her head—high-and-mighty as per usual. “What’s his favorite color?”

“You have no right to quiz him on the authenticity of our relationship,” Weevil said at the exact same time Rex chirped, “Green.” Weevil’s lips parted when he heard him, seeming puzzled. “Wait, how did—?”

“Because I love you,” Rex answered. And because he wore nothing besides green—he was wearing green right now, the idiot. “Next question.”

Mai was happy to comply. “Favorite food?”

“Bee larvae.”

“Disgusting, but likely. Favorite Duel Monsters card?”

“Perfectly Ultimate Great Moth and Insect Queen. He also has a secret soft spot for Naturia monsters.”

“I do _not_ , moron!”

“Favorite movie?”

“ _Mothra_.”

“Too obvious. Favorite book?”

“ _The Metamorphosis_.”

 “Favorite sexual position?”

“Reverse cowgirl. He’s the cowgirl.”

“ _What_ —!”

“Shall we start the Duel?” Mai’s partner asked, effectively bringing their game to a close.

Mai made a frustrated noise. “Nngh—you’re well-trained little losers, but I still don’t buy it.”

“Looks like you don’t know true love when you see it,” Rex mocked. Phew—had he seriously gotten all of those right? Maybe he knew Weevil too well.

Mai’s partner began shuffling her deck. She didn’t have any card sleeves, Rex noticed. They couldn’t pull the Parasite Paracide trick twice, though, especially not on Mai—she might actually have some sway with the officials.

“If they’re not in love,” she said, focused on the cards, “then they will not be able to win this Duel.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean? “Hey—you sayin’ your love is stronger than ours?” It was true, but still offensive. 

“That. And—the themed challenges would prove difficult for you, would it not?”

“Themed what-now?” said Rex.

“Oh!” Mai’s glossy lips curled into a cruel smirk. “I completely forgot—those start today, don’t they? Good thinking, Ishizu-baby.”

“No, seriously,” Rex said, feeling a minor sense of foreboding begin to bubble in his gut, “themed _what_ …?”

“All shall be made clear once we Duel,” said the other woman—Ishizu, apparently. More fortune cookie talk. Rex didn’t like fortune cookies.

He looked over at Weevil, seeking some sort of answer, but he received none: rather, Weevil was busy very clearly avoiding eye contact. Oh god, not a good sign.

“I got a bad feelin’ about this,” Rex murmured, then took out his deck.

Once he and Weevil were finished shuffling, they activated their game table. Their Life Points flickered to life near their decks: 8000.

“Wait,” Rex said, “shouldn’t it be 16000? It’s a tag Duel.” Maybe their machine was broken?

“No,” said Mai, that harpy-like grin still mauling her face, “it’s right. It’s part of those challenges, don’t you remember?”

“Can’t ya cut to the chase already?”

Mai feigned innocence and batted her lashes. “Did you not read the tournament information?”

Rex turned to Weevil. “Well?”

“I skimmed them,” Weevil said nebulously.

“ _Well_?”

“U-umm. I read that, along with functioning under modified tag-tournament rules, later stages of the bracket would feature, err, _challenges_ , to differentiate the Cecelia Cup from other competitions.”

Rex’s brow furrowed. “Meaning?”

“I go first,” said Mai. “I Set a card, Set a monster, and then end my turn.”

Weevil was next. “I Set a card, then Summon Flying Kamakiri Number Two in Attack Position. Since I can’t attack, I’ll end my turn.”

“You’re not answering me,” growled Rex.

“I Set a monster, then Set two cards on the field,” Ishizu said. “That ends my turn.”

Rex’s turn, then. Ugh, fine—he’d play it by ear. “I Summon Mad Sword Beast in Attack Position, then equip it with Gravity Axe – Grarl, raising its Attack by 500 points to a total of 1900. Then—I attack Mai’s face down monster!”

“Oh no,” Mai said, sounding bored. She flipped over her card—Harpie Girl, with 500 Defense Points.

“Hah! Mad Sword Beast’s effect inflicts piercing battle damage, so you take 1000 damage to your Life Points!”

Mai and Ishizu’s Life Points ticked down to 7000.

“Looks like we took damage,” Mai said. Her gaze swooped over to Ishizu. “You think we should take the challenge now?”

“I do not think it wise to waste it this early,” Ishizu responded.

“It’ll be fine. These guys won’t be difficult to beat. Besides, shouldn’t we show them what they signed up for?”

Ishizu pondered her argument for a moment or two before eventually nodding. “Very well.” Then she turned to face Mai, hooked a finger below her chin, and pulled her in for a kiss.

Yo.

Mai’s lashes fluttered—she must have been taken off-guard—before she closed her eyes and pushed deeper into the kiss. Her hands reached up to cup either side of Ishizu’s face, thumbs grazing over her smooth cheeks, while her tongue swiped over Ishizu’s bottom lip. Ishizu made a quiet, pleased noise, then took Mai’s top lip between her teeth and nipped. Their mouths were silky-pink, glossing shinier and shinier with each wet kiss.

Rex couldn’t look away. It was porn. Like, real life porn, right there in front of him.

“Oh no,” Weevil was burbling to himself. “Oh shit oh god oh fuck me sideways with a fly swatter.”

Rex was momentarily distracted by him—distracted enough to notice that, while Ishizu and Mai were making out, the Life Points on their side of the field ticked back up to 8000 and beyond, to 9000.

“Hey, what gives?” he cried.

Ishizu and Mai were too busy getting frisky to hear him.

“Hey!” He pounded his fist on the table. “Answer me!”

Mai was the one to break the kiss. As she pulled away, a shaky strand of saliva tied her to Ishizu’s still-parted lips.

“What?” she asked, and the string broke.

“What was _that_? Your Life Points went back up while you two were suckin’ face! You’re cheatin’!”

“Those are the rules,” said Ishizu. She returned to her stoic expression, as if she hadn’t just been making out with the grace of a cheap Craigslist hooker.

“Huh?”

“You start out with 8000 Life Points. Three times a game, you can kiss your partner to restore 2000 Life Points.”

“ _Huh_?”

“It’s a fun way to get the both of you more involved in the competition,” said Mai, and—jeez, that vulgar smile of hers was back again. Talk about unflattering—what could Ishizu possibly see in her? Besides tits? Like, really bigass tits? Oh—and a bigass ass, too? Not to mention those hips and that waist and—argh!

Rex shook his head. The kiss had jumbled up his thoughts even further. Like, seriously—did they have to be so grotesque about it? Not that he was complaining, since it was pretty hot—except now he couldn’t concentrate on the game, and—

Wait.

He looked at Weevil.

“Listen,” Weevil said, tone sharp and low, “I knew that the Cecelia Cup focused on being stupid and couple-y, and I knew about the challenges—but I didn’t think they’d be this ridiculous! They didn’t say anything about _this_ on their website!”

It took around sixty-five-million years for Rex’s prehistoric brain to finally puzzle out what had everyone so worked up.

All of the blood in his body rushed straight to his face.

“W-wait—if they can do that, and th-those are the rules, that means we—? W-we’re—?” He raised a trembling finger and pointed to his lips. “We h-hafta—?”

“We don’t _have_ to do anything,” Weevil said quickly. “We can win with 8000 Life Points.”

“We’re gonna—?”

“We’re not _going_ to _do_ anything!”

Mai leaned forward on her folded hands, apparently eavesdropping on their conversation. “What? Are the lovebirds scared of a little PDA?”

“Shut up! It’s your turn, you worm!”

Oh, Godzilla almighty, was he going to _kiss_ Weevil?

The thought—the _word_ —stirred up an ugly feeling in Rex’s stomach. Nah—no way, he was _not_ going to kiss Weevil! That’d be disgusting! That’d be _gay_! He’d do the hand-holding, the pet-names, the compliments and the flirting—but there was no way in hell he was going to kiss him!

“Rex,” Weevil snapped, “it’s your move.”

Huh? Wasn’t it just his turn?

He glanced down at the field—wait, where was his Mad Sword Beast? He looked to their Life Points, which were at—7600? Already?

He felt all three pairs of eyes at the table staring at him disparagingly. Rex gulped—whoa, when had it gotten so _hot_?

“I, uh, draw—then I Summon Two-Headed King Rex in Attack Position,” he said.

“ _Why_?” Weevil squeaked.

“Whaddya mean ‘why’?” He looked over the field, and—oh, that was why. Somehow, Mai had already Summoned a Harpie Lady and Harpie Lady Sisters, boosted with the Field Spell Harpies’ Hunting Ground, and Ishizu had out a nasty-looking Gravekeeper’s Oracle.

“Uh, I set two cards—,” Bottomless Trap Hole and Polymerization as a bluff, “—and end my turn.”

Weevil grimaced. “Get your head in the game.” His pink lips puckered into a pout. Like… they were pretty damn pink—glossy, too. Not near the level of Mai or Ishizu, but still impressive. Did he wear chapstick, he wondered? If Weevil’s lips were as soft as a girl’s, then maybe kissing him wouldn’t be so bad.

Wait, no! He was giving up way too easily! He was _not_ going to kiss Weevil, no chance in hell! Weevil was terrible! Weevil was gross, mean, cutthroat, devoted, and passionate, with soft skin and pink lips and—argh, no no no, _stop_!

“Your turn, dipshit,” said Weevil.

“Again?!”

“That _is_ how the game works.”

Their Life Points had wound down to—4400?! How had that happened?

“Umm. I draw.” That was a Guardian Grarl—which he couldn’t Summon, since his axe had been destroyed. “All right, I—uh—Set a Monster and end my turn.”

“What are you doing?” Weevil cried from beside him. “Do something about those Harpies!”

“I don’t have anything in my hand,” Rex said on-reflex. He looked at his cards: Black Tyranno, Double Summon, Jurassic Heart… hey, those were actually pretty good. Wait, what had he Set on the field, again—?

“Hey!” Weevil snapped his fingers in front of Rex’s nose. “Pay attention to what’s happening around you!”

He was right—he was getting distracted. Focus on the game, focus on the game….

Mai went next. She drew a card into her hand, and a coy smile touched the corners of her lips. They still looked wet—she must not have wiped them off after her kiss with Ishizu. She and Ishizu seemed so dignified, yet their kiss was so crude—jeez, what would kissing Weevil be like? His words always sounded wet when he talked, so he’d imagine there’d be a lot of spit involved. Weevil was shorter than he was, too, so he’d have to bend down to get at him. Maybe he’d cup a hand under Weevil’s chin and tilt his head up, like Ishizu had done to Mai. Then he could kiss him _deep_ —and he would thread his fingers through Weevil’s hair (was it soft?), run his tongue along his teeth, press his body into his—up against a wall or over the Dueling table, maybe—until Weevil was whining into his mouth and clawing at his back and sending shivers from Rex’s spine all the way down to his—

“Hey. Are you two going to kiss, or what?”

Rex wanted to.

Wait—no, what the fuck, no he didn’t! No! Not at _all_!

“Well, if you’re not kissing, it’s over. Ishizu is going to attack your Life Points directly.”

Rex blinked.

Ishizu had two monsters on the field: Gravekeeper’s Oracle, presumably the same one from before, and Zolga. Weevil had exhausted all of his monsters and Traps, leaving him naked—and since Rex no longer had any monsters on the field, there was nothing between them and their imminent destruction.

He looked to their Life Points: 2000. A single strike from Gravekeeper’s Oracle would take them out.

Weevil sounded close to hyperventilating; he was sucking down short, shallow breaths and muttering “ _fuck_ ” on every exhale.

“This isn’t good,” Rex observed.

“No shit!” Weevil tapped the cards in his hand against the table. “God—why Mai Valentine? Out of everybody on this cruise, why _Mai Valentine_? I wasn’t prepared for this!”

“Kiss me,” said Rex.

Weevil looked at him, mortified.

“You have to kiss me,” Rex said, attempting to sound more reasonable. “If you don’t, we’re gonna lose.”

“Are you kidding me?! We wouldn’t be in this mess if _you_ had been paying attention to the game!”

That was probably true. But maybe once he got this gross _urge_ out of his system, he’d be able to concentrate. That had to work, right? Then he would be reminded of how disgusting Weevil actually was, and his brain could _shut the fuck up_.

Rex edged his chair closer to him. Weevil edged his chair farther away.

“Absolutely not,” he hissed. His pupils were dilated—through his glasses, they seemed huge.

“C’mon,” Rex egged. “We hafta.”

“There’s no feasible way we can win at this point!”

“Ya don’t know that for sure until ya kiss me.”

“Why do you sound so excited about this? You’re freaking me out!”

“I thought’cha wanted to win! I don’t wanna lose, either!”

“You should’ve thought about that while we were playing!”

“ _You_ should’ve thought about that before you made me sign up for this stupid tourney!”

“Ugh, you’re useless!”

“You’re a hypocrite!”

“As much as I love hearing my opponents suffer,” Mai said through a chuckle, “Ishizu and I are going to have other Duels after this, so hurry it up.”

Rex hadn’t noticed until then, but the gap between his and Weevil’s faces had shrunk while they were arguing. They tended to do that—get closer and closer as their voices grew louder and louder. It had been on instinct for he and Weevil both; it must’ve been, for Weevil’s mouth fell open when he noticed Rex’s proximity.

Weevil blinked. His cheeks were pink. His open mouth was an invitation, at that point.

Rex leaned closer. Weevil didn’t move.

Was he really going to do this? The thought of kissing Weevil had never crossed his mind until less than an hour ago, yet here they were.

Rex’s body quivered against his will.

He wanted to kiss him.

No—no, he didn’t! He wanted to win, that was all! He didn’t like Weevil—he liked winning. He didn’t like Weevil. He _didn’t like Weevil_....

Rex felt Weevil’s breath ghost over his lips for one glorious second—before he was shoved out of his chair and knocked onto the floor. His head hit the wood hard enough to bash what little sense he had left clean out of him.

“You creep!” Weevil was shrieking from somewhere in the mists above him. “You faggot! You _queer_!”

“I knew it,” he heard Mai say.

“What is your _problem_?” His voice was shrill. “I brought you along with me because I thought you’d be useful for the tourney—but you turned out to not only be a loser, but a _freak_!”

“Wasn’t my idea,” Rex said without lifting his head.

“You’re right, it wasn’t! I guess the joke’s on me for thinking you’d be valuable, hmm? Well, don’t worry—this won’t be happening ever again.”

Rex tensed.

“It took me having to lose at the easiest tournament in the world for me to realize it—but you’re absolutely useless. At Duel Monsters, at being normal, at _life_. I have no reason to keep you around, so—guess what!—I’m not going to anymore.”

“Yeah, right,” Rex snorted.

“Fuck you,” said Weevil. “You’ve screwed me over for the last time, Raptor. Consider this relationship terminated.”

Rex heard Weevil’s sneakers pad away across the wood floor. And then, he was alone.

He didn’t bother getting up until another Duelist threatened to call security.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rex and Weevil confirmed to be the *worst* at fake dating. and dueling. and just generally... the worst
> 
> Looks like they're out of the tournament! (Already! Curse you, Mai, and your soon-to-be-nerfed Harpies' Hunting Ground!) How are they supposed to win that title now? Eh, I'm sure they'll figure something out. Or not -- Rex seems to have *other* things on his mind....
> 
> Thank you for reading!! I'm so happy that there are people out there who like these two as much as I do!! I can only hope I'm doing them justice!


	4. Mistakes

Weevil didn’t return to their room at any point during the evening. Rex had been expecting him to—he’d burst in, yell about Rex taking up the bed, and everything would return to the status quo (the status quo of pretending to be in a relationship for the sake of competing in a tourney, at least). But evening bled into night, and night into midnight, then dawn—and as sleep evaded Rex, he found himself wondering how long it would take until Weevil cracked and came crawling back to him.

Not that he understood why Weevil was angry in the first place—talk about an overreaction. Rex should’ve been the angry one: this tournament was all Weevil’s idea. If he knew about the relationship angle going in, why had he been appalled when it came time to act on it? Maybe it was a good thing they had lost this early—otherwise they’d be outed as frauds in an even more degrading way, if the themed challenges kept getting racier.

Rex gave up on sleep around ten o’clock. If Weevil was going to be an ass, then fine. He didn’t care. Why would he care? He totally didn’t care.

…Okay, maybe he did care. Only a little bit, though!

He was mostly concerned with where the hell Weevil could’ve ended up overnight: there weren’t any twenty-four hour areas on the cruise ship, and mandatory quiet hours prevented people from walking around during the late hours of the night. Weevil was sly, so Rex was sure he had figured something out; yet the nagging thought of Weevil getting caught and sent to whatever the cruise liner equivalent of the “brig” was kept him uneasy.

He decided to go look for him.

Rex checked the breakfast buffet first—no sign. He snatched a muffin, then proceeded to check all of the nearby areas of the cruise ship: the lounge, the promenade, the restaurants and bars and libraries—nothing.

He referred to one of the many holographic maps projected near the ceiling. He highly doubted Weevil would be anywhere near the salons or pool areas. Maybe he was still hanging out in the Duel Room?

He tried consulting in the Happy Lover mascot fluttering next to the map. It grinned at him unhelpfully.

When Rex arrived in the Duel Room, he saw that the layout had changed since the day before. Instead of using all of the tables for the tournament itself, there was now a good-sized section of Duel tables labeled “For Fun.” The pool of competitors must’ve shrunk quite a bit.

He ignored the section reserved for the tournament and focused on scouting out the casual area. He didn’t see Weevil—but he did, however, see a familiar face.

Actually, the familiar face saw him first.

“Oi! Rex Raptor!” Mako Tsunami raised his hand and beckoned him over. He was sitting across from a short, pale-faced man Rex didn’t recognize, with Duel Monsters cards spread in front of the both of them. Judging by his 7900 Life Points and four monsters on the field, Rex assumed he was winning.

He wandered over to him. “Yo, Mako. Where’s Espa?”

“He is still sleeping.”

Rex glanced up at one of the clocks projected onto the walls. “It’s twelve-thirty.”

“I know.” Mako scratched the back of his neck. “He does not get the chance to sleep in often at home, since he has to take care of his entire family. He needs the break.”

“Ah.” Rex hadn’t asked. “Hey, uh—I don’t suppose you’ve seen Weeves around, have ya?”

“Weeves?”

“Weevil Underwood,” Rex amended.

“Oh, yes. I am sorry to hear about what happened.”

Had news of their loss spread that quickly? “Ya win some, ya lose some. We lasted longer than you did, at least.”

“Uh?” Mako coughed into his fist. “Yes, that is tragic as well—but I was referring to the other matter.”

“Other matter?”

“You know.” He looked around awkwardly, as if checking for eavesdroppers, before he leaned in and whispered, “Your break-up.”

“ _Hah_?”

“I heard about it from Espa,” Mako said, “who heard about it from Aigami, who heard about it from Rafael, who heard about it from Vivian, who heard about it from Mai.”

Rex rubbed his temples. Jeez, did Mai have to be such a blabbermouth?

“That’s not what happened,” Rex said. It couldn’t have—they had never been dating in the first place. “It was just a disagreement, that’s all.”

Mako raised a brow. “So you two did not break up?”

“No, of course not!”

“Huh. Maybe you should tell Weevil that.” Mako pointed across the room. “He is over there at that table—with his new girlfriend.”

“His _WHAT_?”

Rex followed the direction of Mako’s finger all the way across the room, towards the section labeled for Cecelia Cup tournament play. It didn’t take him long to spot Weevil sitting at one of the tables, the virtual forms of Grasschopper and Naturia Stag Beetle guarding the field in front of him.

And there, sitting beside him, was a girl.

A cute girl.

A cute girl who had her hand wrapped around Weevil’s and was smiling at him brighter than a supervolcano.

Rex stomped over to the two of them faster than a _Dromiceiomimus_ chasing its prey.

Weevil heard him coming and spared him a disinterested glance. “Oh, look who it is.” He nudged the girl draped over his arm. “I warned you that this might happen. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

The girl looked up at Rex. She was wearing glasses, though they were remarkably more stylish than the bug-themed ones Weevil always had one. She was blonde, freckled, pretty… Rex got the inkling that he had seen her at some point in his life, though he couldn’t pinpoint where. The answer might’ve been _his nightmares_.

“Talk about clingy!” she said, then gave Weevil’s hand a squeeze. “You weren’t lying—he really is a creep!”

Rex’s gaze darted in between the two of them. He couldn’t choose who to yell at first.

“What the hell, Weevil?” he decided.

“Do you need something?” Weevil gestured to the field in front of him. “I’m in the middle of a Duel, if you don’t mind.”

“Ya already lost the tournament, moron! What’re ya trying to pull?”

“I lost the tournament with _you_ ,” Weevil said smoothly. “When I told the staff about my little predicament, they were more than happy to allow my re-entry into the competition.”

Rex gritted his teeth. “Your _predicament_?”

The girl next to Weevil nodded her head. “ _Our_ predicaments! We both broke up with our partners, but somehow—against all odds!—we found each other!” She shot Weevil the starriest smile that Rex had ever been blessed (or cursed) enough to witness.

Oh, right—by the way. “Who the fuck is she?”

“There’s no need to be rude,” Weevil scolded. Rex wanted to punch that smug look off his face.

“He’s just jealous!” The girl broke her hold on Weevil’s hand in order to point to herself with both thumbs. “I’m Rebecca Hawkins! Soon to be—Rebecca _Underwood_ , hee-hee!”

Looks like Rex didn’t need to resort to violence: that comment alone made Weevil’s face fall. “O-oh, Rebecca—darling—that’s a little forward, don’t you think—?”

“We _have_ to be forward! If we aren’t one-hundred percent committed to one another, we’re never going to win this tournament!”

“Y-yes, well, while I appreciate your enthusiasm—”

“You sound just like my ex! You can’t talk that way, Weeves!”

“ _Weeves_?” Rex parroted, voice cracking.

Rebecca glared at him. “Yes, my Weeves! My Weevey-poo! My Underwood-Angel!”

He was seriously going to throw up. Like, right here—all over the virtual Duel Monsters field, all over the ship’s expensive-looking wooden floors. He was _this_ close; his stomach felt like there were raptors scavenging inside of it.

Rex cleared his throat, attempting to calm himself before he started rioting. “Weevil, can I talk to you, please?”

“No. I’m Dueling.” Weevil shooed him away with his hand.

“We need to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“He doesn’t want to talk!” Rebecca said. “Go away, you weirdo!”

She was right under Weevil’s name on his hit-list, at that point.

“Come on, Weevil,” Rex pleaded, and he inwardly cursed how strained his voice sounded.

“Did your tiny dinosaur brain already forget what happened yesterday?” Weevil asked. “When I said that you’re useless to me, I meant it. I have no need for useless people, and therefore I have no need for you. Buzz off.”

Weevil was wearing the same high-collar jacket from yesterday… huh, had he not changed? Of course he hadn’t—he hadn’t come to their room to get his clothes.

It worked out in Rex’s favor, for he grabbed the ends of Weevil’s collar and yanked him hard up out of his chair.

“Hey— _ouch_!” Weevil’s hands wrapped back around Rex’s arm, nails clawing at his skin. “What do you think you’re doing? Let go of me!”

Rex didn’t. Instead, he dragged Weevil, kicking and screaming, out of the Duel Room and out into the indoor promenade. He only let go once the door had shut behind them.

“Seriously—what the hell, man?” Rex said. He looked down at his arms—Weevil’s nails had left long, deep scratches, some of them bleeding.

Weevil straightened out his clothes as soon as he was allowed the opportunity. “I could say the same to you! How dare you _manhandle_ me like that!”

“Are ya for real right now? You honestly think _that’s_ the problem, here?”

“You’re right, there’s a bigger problem—it appears that you, for some unfathomable reason, still think we’re on speaking terms. I’ll rectify that right now.” Weevil grinded his teeth and glared at him. “Never come within five feet of me ever again or, so help me, I’ll sue.”

“I’m gonna try to get all of this straight for a second.” Rex combed a hand through his hair. His fingers winded up caught in the snarls—he had been too stressed to shower and brush it out the night before. “They let you re-enter the tournament.”

“With Rebecca, yes,” he said.

“Your girlfriend.”

“She’s not—!” Weevil caught himself before he could blow his cover, then he edged into a whisper: “When I was wandering around last night, I happened to run into her. We struck a deal—she and I would re-enter the tournament as a new couple and share victory.”

“Why?” Rex asked.

“Because I want to win, idiot!”

“You’ve gotta be shittin’ me! You’re going to go through all of that crap _again_ with a new partner? What are the themed challenges for today, huh?”

“Constant hand-holding,” said Weevil.

“And you’re okay with that?”

“She’s a girl. And we’re on the same wavelength—she understands that we’re doing this in order to win, and _nothing else_.”

Rex laughed. “Oh, yeah—Mrs. Underwood in there seems like she’s got nothin’ else in mind.”

“She gets carried away, that’s all! At least she plays to win!”

“How the hell were you even able to re-enter, anyway?” he asked. “Why couldn’t _we_ re-enter?”

“Because I hate you.” Weevil paused for a moment, eyes going hazy. “I was a little surprised myself, but… apparently, Rebecca had never entered the tournament the first time, since she broke up with her ex beforehand. She started crying really obnoxiously in front of the judges, so they volunteered to let us back in.”

“So you whined until you got your way,” Rex said.

“She’s clever. Cleverer than you, anyway, and that’s all I could really ask for.”

“I cannot _fucking_ believe you!” Rex cried, gesticulating madly with his hands. “You drag me away to compete in this stupid-ass tourney, only for me to find out—guess what! It’s not a tourney: it’s a couples’ cruise that happens to _host_ a tourney! ‘But it’ll be fine,’ you said! ‘Let’s just _pretend_ to be a couple! That isn’t weird or gay at all!’ So I went along with your batshit crazy plan, and when we actually had to _prove_ that we were a couple? With kissing? For some reason _I’m_ the crazy one, even though _I_ wasn’t the one who thought that participating in a fucking tag-format couples’ tourney was a good idea!”

“That’s not the issue!” Weevil said, stamping his foot. “You were the reason we lost that Duel!”

“Hate to break it to ya, Weeves, but I think we lost because—shocker!—we suck!”

“You suck; I don’t!”

“If you and I couldn’t win against Mai Valentine, do you seriously think you and that—that—!” Rex struggled for the right word—something less harsh than _cunt_ but more scathing than _bimbo_ , preferably. “—That _nobody_ in there stand a chance against her?”

Weevil nodded. “Yes, because I won’t have you to bog me down.”

Rex grabbed a fistful of his own hair and yanked. It wasn’t as cathartic as coming to blows, but he didn’t want to be thrown off the boat.

“God, it’s like talking to a fucking _fossil_ ,” Rex moaned. “Nothin’ I’m sayin’ is gettin’ through your thick skull!”

“ _You’re_ calling _me_ thick-skulled? That’s rich, Raptor.”

“If you hate me so much,” said Rex, “why didja bring me along in the first place?

That made Weevil pause.

“Hafta think about it? Don’t worry, I’ll answer it for ya.” Rex pulled out a couple strings of hair, growled at them, and then tossed them to the floor. “It’s because you don’t have anyone else, huh?”

“That’s preposterous,” Weevil said, though the frown on his face indicated that Rex had struck a nerve.

“You’re as big a loser as I am! Ya can’t win tournaments anymore: you peaked when you were fifteen! And ya don’t have any friends to fall back on! All ya got is me and some random chick you found wanderin’ around on a boat!”

Weevil backed up a step.

“And guess what? Your circle of friends is back to one, ’cuz I ain’t a part of it anymore!”

Rex didn’t know what he was saying until the words had already left his mouth.

He had never thought about whether or not he considered Weevil a friend. He, like Weevil, didn’t hang out with many other people—and, out of everybody in his life, it was Weevil he gravitated to the most. Even when he wanted to get away from him, destiny kept forcing them back together, as if some sort of cosmic entity had a vendetta against Rex and his personal life.

But Weevil was a douchebag. Weevil was harsh, snotty, gross, and all-around unpleasant. Rex shouldn’t have been friends with somebody like him in the first place.

So he wasn’t losing much.

“If ya don’t want to talk to me ever again, fine,” Rex said, tongue sharp in his mouth. “I don’t wanna see ya again, either. You’re an asshole and nobody likes you.”

“Like you’re any better,” said Weevil.

“I don’t pretend to be.” Rex raised his hand in a wave. “Have a nice life.”

And then he turned away.

“Hey, wait! You don’t get to tell me off like you’re somehow in the right! I’m the one who cut off ties with you first, dumbass!”

“When that chick dumps you after the tournament is over and you realize all of the stupid mistakes you made, don’t bother crawlin’ back to me,” Rex said.

“I was never going to—!”

Sure he wasn’t. Just like he was never going to see him again after the National Championships, after they lost Duelist Kingdom and Battle City and the KaibaCup, after they winded up with their souls almost devoured by an eldritch abomination and consumed by the Shadow Realm.

This time, Rex wouldn’t let him come back. He was done.

“Smell ya later, Underwood,” he said.

He walked fast. He didn’t want Weevil to notice how hard he was shaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "What the hell, Weevil" is a question I find myself asking a lot when attempting to write this and with other shrimpshipping fics
> 
> Also, I forgot to tag Rebecca as a character? Oh dear! Who doesn't love....... Rebecca? Everybody's favorite character... Rebecca... yes... obviously
> 
> We're halfway done already? No way! It feels like this week just started! I wish I could be contributing more to this event than just "Rex and Weevil slap each other on a boat for seven chapters," but alas, I can only do so much.
> 
> Thank you sosososososososo much for reading!!


	5. Celebration

Couples’ cruises kind of sucked when you weren’t part of a couple.

Rex left the gloomy sanctuary of his room once or twice to investigate the other featured activities on the ship, but all of the scheduled activities were structured for two people. He didn’t like the pitying looks the aerobics instructors and lifeguards were shooting him—couldn’t they mind their own business? What was their problem? What was _everyone’s_ problem?

The day passed, as did the next. The cruise was to conclude in three days’ time, if Rex was keeping time correctly. The finals of the Cecelia Cup were scheduled for the following day: the holographic signs projected onto virtually every ceiling on the boat were kind enough to remind him. They also showed the names of the finalists.

“MAI VALENTINE & ISHIZU ISHTAR” was one couple. Figured.

“REBECCA HAWKINS & WEEVIL UNDERWOOD” was the second.

Happy Lover grinned at him smugly.

“Fuck you,” Rex said to it.

He’d just sleep the whole day, he thought to himself. He had been feeling especially tired recently—he hadn’t been sleeping well, despite the giant, fluffy bed. He would sleep, get up to gorge himself on steak and ice cream at the buffet (like usual—he was going to get so fat), and then sleep the next day away, too. If he hibernated, the rest of the trip might not feel so agonizingly long.

That was his plan as he settled into bed. Sleep came late and rough.

The ringing of a phone woke him up.

Not Rex’s phone—Rex always turned his phone to silent during quiet hours (Weevil got up way earlier than Rex did and would often text him with no heed to the hour—that was something he wouldn’t miss). Rather, the ringing sounded from the corded phone sitting on the nightstand next to the king-sized bed.

Who the hell was trying to call his room at—he glanced at the clock—six A.M.? Wait, holy shit, _six_? What the hell?

He flipped over onto his other side and tried to block out the ringing. It faded after five rings—then immediately started back up. Another call.

“Shut up,” Rex groaned at the universe, smothering his face with his pillow.

For a blissful few seconds after the call ended, Rex thought he had been listened to: the phone went quiet.

In three more seconds, it rang again.

Rex shot up, grabbed the receiver, and thrust it towards his ear.

“Who the hell is this?” he asked, words slurred with sleep.

“Good morning! Is this Mr. Rex Raptor?” The voice on the other line was pleasant. Male. Way too cheery, considering it was a ludicrous hour.

“Who’s askin’?”

“You requested a wake-up call at six o’clock as well as a reminder for your six-fifteen appointment. This has been your wake-up call—”

“Wait,” Rex interrupted, “I didn’t request no wake-up call. You got the wrong guy.”

“Are you not Mr. Raptor?”

“No—yes, I am, but I didn’t ask for a call.”

“Ah. Perhaps somebody asked for you.”

If this was Weevil’s idea of revenge, Rex was going to slaughter him.

“Nonetheless,” the man continued, “your appointment is scheduled fifteen minutes from now. Please try to arrive on time.”

Rex rubbed away the crust amassing under his eyes. “Nngh—I didn’t make no appointment, neither.”

“Are you sure? We have your name listed right here: six-fifteen, Rex Raptor, reservations for two at the Kajiki Spa.”

“The _spa_? Okay, buddy, you definitely got the wrong guy.”

“Would you like to cancel your appointment?” the man asked.

“Will you stop calling my damn room?”

“Of course.”

“Then cancel it.”

“Since it’s so close to the scheduled time, I’m afraid I cannot cancel the appointment for you.”

“What the fuck.”

“In order to cancel the reservations, you’ll have to alert the spa staff in-person. I’m sorry for the trouble.”

It felt like he was still sleeping—like this was some kind of lame-ass stress nightmare. He was waiting for his own snoring to wake him up, as it often did—but alas, the snores never came.

“Can’t I just not show up?” Rex asked.

“That would be very irresponsible of you.”

“Wouldn’t that be a shame.”

“Also, while all services provided on the _S.S. Kajiki_ are complementary with proof of participation in the Cecelia Cup, any unwarranted stress on the staff—such as not showing up to scheduled appointments, rudeness, and general complacency—can result in additional charges up to 5,000 dollars.”

Rex launched straight out of bed.

“I’ll be there in five minutes,” he said, then hung up the phone.

                             

***

 

This had to be some sort of prank. Rex’s natural instinct was to blame Weevil, but common sense dictated that he wasn’t the culprit. Weevil wasn’t subtle enough for something like this—if he was going to make a fool out of Rex, it was going to be an elaborate affair that the entire boat would know about. Waking Rex up early was too small for him.

He managed to deduce where the spa was located by following the three-dimensional maps of the ship. It took him longer than expected; he hadn’t realized how big the boat actually _was_. He arrived at six-fourteen—in the nick of time. If he got fined, he was going to sue Pegasus off his ass.

Rex had never been into a spa before. The instant he stepped through the doors, a flood of herbal scents struck his palate like a meteor crash-landing on Earth. He wasn’t cultured enough to recognize what plants the smells belonged to—only that there were a _lot_ , and that the resulting musk did not smell in the least bit pleasant.

He was funneled into a waiting room. The spa looked like it was going for a _tropical_ vibe, what with the Jurassic flowers and gaudy plastic palm trees decorating the inner perimeter. He felt out-of-his-element.

The woman at the waiting-room desk, who also happened to be the only person in the waiting room (probably because nobody _did_ anything at six in the morning), looked up from her paperwork when she heard Rex come barreling in.

“You must be Mr. Raptor,” she said with a cheerful smile.

“Uh, that’s me,” Rex said. “Look, I didn’t make any appointments. Somebody’s tryin’a play a joke on me or somethin’. I just wanna cancel.”

She blinked at him. “But you made reservations for two.”

“Didn’t ya hear what I said? No, I didn’t!” How disorganized was this crew?

“That’s strange. But there’s already somebody here under your name.”

Rex stared at her.

“I-I mean,” she said, her face reddening, “the other person you—umm, supposedly—reserved treatment for is already in the spa. Maybe she made the appointment in order to surprise you?”

“Who was it?” Rex asked.

“Ah, umm—I don’t remember the name off the top of my head, but I believed she signed in—”

“Don’t bother lookin’,” Rex snapped, maybe a little too harshly—he made the poor clerk flinch. “Can ya take me to her?” He wanted to confront the perpetrator himself.

“Yes, of course!” The clerk stood up and walked over to the door near the back of the waiting room. She beckoned for him to follow. “Right this way, sir.”

The door led into a long hallway with multiple sets of doors on either side of it—personal rooms, Rex assumed. Was it a private spa? Err, weren’t all spas private? You didn’t get weird stuff done to you around other people, right? What even happened to you at spas, anyway? Didn’t they put stuff on your face and shave you in weird places?

The woman stopped in front of a flowery door and pushed it open for him. “This one, sir.”

Rex poked his head in. It was a spacious room, lined with colorful plants and teeming with weird smells. In the center of the space, two women were lying face-up on separate, white-toweled chairs. One of them had a purple towel spread over her face, while the other sat up as Rex came in and— _yeesh_!

“You’re late, honey,” Mai Valentine said. Rex got the impression he was being glared at, though he couldn’t tell for sure: not with the cucumbers over Mai’s eyes and white cream on her face masking all traces of her expression.

“What the hell—?”

He heard the sound of the door closing. He whipped around to check—yup, the clerk had abandoned him. Fuck.

“Is this your idea of a joke, Mai?” he asked, slowly turning back around. He avoided eye-contact with the cucumbers.

“It’s not a joke,” she said. “It’s a celebration.”

“A what?”

“There should be an open chair, right? Sorry, I’m not supposed to take this off for another hour or so. I shouldn’t even be talking, but I can never follow that rule. Why don’t you sit down?”

There was, indeed, an open chair on the side of Mai opposite from the other woman.

“No thanks,” said Rex. “If ya got somethin’ to say to me, make it quick, wouldja? I got things to do.”

“Like what? Moping? Wolfing down ice cream at the buffet for twelve straight hours like you did yesterday?”

Rex winced. “Keep your nose outta my business!”

Mai laid back down so Rex could no longer see her hideous face. Thank god. “Just sit, sweetie. You don’t want to be a nuisance, do you? I hear they’re pretty liberal with the additional “complacency” fees around here.”

“Are ya blackmailing me?”

“Whatever lets you sleep at night.”

Rex griped foully under his breath before going over to sit on the chair. It was actually pretty cozy, and the towel was soft and smelled nice—he could see himself taking a nap there. Maybe that’s what the other woman was doing.

“Spit it out,” Rex said.

Mai tossed her hair back. It was wet and curled at the ends, as if freshly trimmed. “I already told you—there’s no ulterior motive. I’m just celebrating. The tournament finals are today, you know.”

“So I’ve heard,” Rex grumbled.

“I usually spend the time before a match preparing new strategies to dazzle my opponents, but—jeez, you know who I’m facing? Absolute nobodies. That Rebecca girl used to be the American National Champion, so I’ve heard—but she has _zero_ chemistry with her partner. Bugs and dragons don’t mesh well, do they?”

Rex dry-retched.

“Not that bugs and dinosaurs mesh well, either.”

“Do ya have a point you’re tryin’ to make, or didja just bring me here to brag?”

Mai rolled over to face him. Rex sat back and stared at the ceiling—anything to avoid looking at Mai’s creepy face.

“You’re a total pushover,” she said.

His jaw dropped. “ _Hah_?”

“I can understand how a pest like him could get under your skin, but you’re letting him stomp all over you! That’s pathetic! You can’t let him do that!”

It took a few moments for Rex to process what Mai was getting at.

“Why the hell does it matter to you?” Wait. “I mean—I’m not pathetic! Get outta my hair, wouldja?”

“You need to do something about him! I mean, what kind of a freak picks somebody up off the rebound that quickly? He’s an asshole!” She sounded really upset for some reason.

“Like I said, it’s none of your business.” Rex wrinkled his nose. “It’s none of my business what Weeves does, either. We ain’t friends anymore.”

“Friends?” Mai asked.

Oh. “Uh. B-boyfriends, I mean. But we’re also not friends, either!”

“You’re still keeping that up, are you?” She sighed. “I don’t get it. You’re a sweet kiddo—why do you bother hanging out with that loser?”

When had he ever once, in his life, acted _sweet_ around Mai? Five years ago, he had flirted with her and ended up with his ass handed to him on a platter; that was the extent of their relationship.

“You’re not mean,” Mai clarified, apparently picking up the unease in his silence. “You’re full-of-it, loud-mouthed, and kind of rude—but you’re a good sport. When you lose, you lose gracefully. For example, you don’t cheat.”

“Since when are ya an expert on my Duelin’ record?”

“If you cheated, people would talk about it,” Mai said. “People don’t talk about _you_ —they talk about Weevil.”

“You’re doing wonders for my ego, here,” Rex said.

“It’s always Weevil this, Weevil that—I heard about the tricks he pulled in Battle City and the KaibaCup. You were involved in the latter too, weren’t you? But it wasn’t your idea.”

“Is this a therapy session?”

Mai was quiet for a few minutes. Rex felt compelled to check if she was still alive—who knew what was in that face-cream.

“I cheated in Duelist Kingdom,” she finally said.

“Oh, my bad—it’s _your_ therapy session.”

“I was on the top of my game in Duelist Kingdom and Battle City, but I still found the need to cheat. I was no better than that little insect.”

Rex could see her face starting to contort under the mask, but she stopped herself before she could damage it.

“I know you don’t go back on your word. I know that you bet your most valuable card in your Duelist Kingdom match against Joey Wheeler, and you lost it. I know you lost your rarest card to a fraud in Battle City. But you never found the need to cheat yourself out of those situations.”

Memories of the Orichalcos flashed in Rex’s mind.

“Sure,” he lied.

“So again, I wonder—why? Why does somebody like you—a brat, sure, but a decent guy—hang out with a jerk like Weevil Underwood?”

Rex thought about that.

“I dunno,” he said.

“That’s an awful answer! Do better!”

“Guh.” Rex rubbed the back of his neck—yeesh, it felt like a sauna in there. Maybe he was supposed to be wearing something skimpier. Mai was only in a bathrobe, after all—whoa, wait, how did he _just now_ notice that—?!

He turned back to the ceiling, trying to fight back the blush glowing hot on his cheeks. Not that it mattered: Mai couldn’t see him. But he still felt… indecent.

“Answer me,” Mai demanded.

“Gimme a minute, jeez!”

He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to approach this. He didn’t know the answer to the question—why the hell _did_ he hang out with Weevil?

“I guess it’s ’cuz I don’t have anyone else,” he said, thinking aloud.

“That’s no reason to hang out with someone,” Mai said. “If they’re mean to you, cut them out of your life.”

“Well, it’s not just that.” He brought his hands up to his face. Dirt edged under his nails, turning them black. He wondered if the spa could do something about that. “I mean, uh, it’s… more than that. Weevil is a douchebag, but that douchebaggery ain’t… unfounded, ya feel?”

Mai was silent, letting him continue.

“He can be super competitive, but he’s not _mean_ about it. At least, not on purpose. He’ll cheat and laugh and call ya rude things, but it’s not because he wants to be mean to ya—it’s because he wants to win, and you’re in his way. And I get it—he hasn’t won in a long time, so he doesn’t get a lot of respect. He loves Duel Monsters and wants to be good at it—there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“There’s something wrong with cheating,” she pointed out.

“I mean, on an ethical level, sure. I don’t like doin’ it.” Rex picked beneath his nails. “But, like I said, Weevil doesn’t cheat ’cuz he’s mean—he cheats ’cuz he’s passionate. He wants to win, and he wants others to appreciate him winnin’: people just happen to get in the way of that.” He paused. “I kinda like his dedication.”

“‘Like?’”

“Respect.” Yeah, that was the word. “He’s willin’ to go to the ends of the earth in order to get what he wants. He doesn’t care about what anybody else thinks or what happens to him, so long as he’s allowed to be his cutthroat, passionate self.

“And you know? He honestly doesn’t get his way that often. People don’t respect him, and he loses at Duel Monsters _constantly_. He fails so, so much—it’s crazy. Yet he’s just as determined now as he was when I played against him in the National Championships.”

Rex envied him.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m useless,” he murmured, words soft. “Like I reached my prime a long time ago. And I think to myself: why the hell am I still Duelin’? I’m never gonna place again. I can’t even win a damn tournament on a couples’ cruise. But then I look over at Weevil—and he’s still goin’. Even when things are shit, he never gives up. He’s out there right butsin’ his ass trying to win tournament while I’m here cryin’, talkin’ about my feelings and shit like I’m some kinda prissy queer.”

“I’d watch your language,” said Mai, though her voice was calm.

Whoops. “Sorry, no offense—it just feels really good to say.”

“Oh no, I get it, honey.” She tilted her head at him. “Are you done?”

He wasn’t. “And, like—he’s usually the one who wants to hang out with me. Isn’t that weird? Out of everybody he’s met at tourneys, he decided to stick with me. Whenever he has a new plan, or hell, whenever he just wants to talk, he calls _me_. This crazy, passionate, cutthroat guy hangs around with _me_ —and like, I know he doesn’t got anyone else, and I get _why_ , because he’s a dick, but I also… don’t? Because he’s actually really—I dunno, _likable_ , once you get to know him. In an infectious kinda way. It’s weird… and this might be weird to say, but the fact that he hangs out with me makes me feel kinda—uh, it makes me—uh….”

“Happy?” Mai suggested. Rex looked over at her; the mask didn’t hide her smirk.

“That sounds lame.”

“That’s because it _is_ lame.”

Rex’s eyebrow twitched. “Are you tryin’ to make me feel better? ’Cuz you’re doing a real shit job at it.”

Mai folded her hands together. “You like him,” she said simply.

“Gross.” He didn’t deny the claim.

“Does he know how you feel about him?”

“None of what I said means jack now. We’re not friends anymore.”

“You’re just going to accept that?” she asked.

Rex’s eyes narrowed at the ceiling. “There’s nothin’ I can do about it.”

“Why? Because you’re useless?”

“Way to prey on my deepest insecurity there, Mai.”

“Well, you can’t just sit there and whine!” Mai ran her hands through her hair. “If you want something, you have to work for it! That’s what Weevil does, right? And you admire him for it? Then be a little more like him!”

How was he going to do that? Was he supposed to apologize? Like hell—he wasn’t in the wrong. Maybe he hadn’t said the nicest of things to him the other day, but that was only because Weevil totally deserved it.

“Maybe this is a good thing,” he said. “Like you were sayin’ before—I’m a sweet guy! I don’t need a loser like him! I’m better than that, ain’t I?”

“I was just saying that so you’d realize _why_ you like him, you idiot! Read the mood!” She groaned and massaged her temples. “Ugh, this is hopeless—Ishizu, say something!”

“Ishizu—?”

The other woman in the room suddenly moved to lift the towel off of her face, sending Rex scrambling back—almost off the chair—in surprise.

“Wait, that’s been Ishizu this whole time?!” he yelped.

Mai’s cucumber eyes judged him. “Who did you think it was?”

Good point.

Ishizu wasn’t wearing a mask nor cucumbers. When she opened her eyes to look at Rex, her gaze was hot. Smoldering. Rex felt like he was melting—not in a mushy way, but more _excruciating_ , like how being melted would actually feel.

“I am a believer in destiny,” she said, voice imposing and proud. “If destiny wills for you two to reunite, then it will be so.”

Destiny _did_ have a kink for fucking him over, he thought.

“However, you cannot determine what destiny desires for you if you are not first aware of what it is _you_ desire. If you do not have the wits to converse with destiny—to pray to it, bargain with it, fight with it….” She lowered her head, and her eyes burned at him like magma. “…Then destiny will pass you over, and you will never know the difference.”

Her words made Rex feel mildly uncomfortable.

“That’s pretty heavy,” Mai remarked.

“Thank you,” Ishizu said.

“Right. Uh.” Rex’s hands rubbed awkwardly at his knees. “Well. Thanks. But not really—no offense, but that was kinda creepy.”

Ishizu only stared at him. Yeah, definitely creepy. He could handle Mai, but this chick was something else. She had the face of somebody who had seen some shit, and Rex didn’t have any desire to know what that shit was.

“Uh.” He coughed. “I think I’m gonna go. Y’all kinda, uh, dropped some real bombs on me. Though I still don’t know why ya brought me out here.”

“Mai feels guilt for being the catalyst of the end of your relationship,” Ishizu said.

“What—hey, no I don’t! Ishizu, don’t say stuff like that!” Mai cried.

“You mustn’t hide your emotions from yourself, Mai, lest you end up like the boy you’re trying to aid.”

“Cool.” At least she wasn’t entirely heartless. “I’m, uh, happy that’cha thought about me. I guess. I’m going to leave now.”

Mai turned to him. “You can’t leave yet.”

“Do you have more shit you want to lecture me about?” Rex had talked enough about his feelings to last him the next ten years.

“No—but your spa treatment hasn’t started.” She tilted her head towards Ishizu. “Sweetie, could you call in the esthetician? Before he escapes?”

“Right away.” Ishizu leaned over and pushed a bright red button on the wall: “CALL SERVICE,” it was labeled.

“Spa treatment—?” Rex grimaced and held his hands out in front of him. “No way! You’ve done enough!”

“I made this appointment for you to relax, kiddo, so you better relax!” Mai settled back down into her lounge chair. “I scheduled a facial, manicure, pedicure, and a hair shampooing! By the time they’re through with you, you’ll be more than ready to win him back—and you’ll look damn good while doing it, too!”

“L-like hell I will! I’m outta here—!”

“His masculinity is awfully fragile,” Ishizu commented.

Rex gawked at her. “What—no it ain’t!” How dare she! “If you’re tryin’ to trick me into agreeing to put up with this, ya got another thing coming!”

“I would never do such a thing,” she said. And then, for the first time since Rex had met her, her lips quirked into a smile. It was a shaky, fragile thing, as if held together with nothing but string and butterfly knots. She looked wise, merciful, and kind; she was a goddess, he realized then, that he felt dirty for ever having disgraced. “I don’t think I have to.”

Rex finally got why Mai was into her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday, Weevil! You're not even in this chapter!!
> 
> I love Mai and Ishizu so, so much! They're such strong, smart women... I look up to them a lot (I only hope they're at least somewhat in-character). I imagine they're pretty intimidating to short, ugly, sleazy folks like Rex, though: poor guy must feel out of his league. Oh well... anyway, good ol' girl talk does wonders soothing a fragile soul, doesn't it? Let's see if Rex learned anything -- the final match is next chapter! He needs to make a move, soon!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	6. History

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, do you want to see something REALLY FRIGGIN' COOL? [wondychan](http://wondychan.tumblr.com/) on tumblr drew a [really awesome comic of a scene in chapter four](http://wondychan.tumblr.com/post/163276921261/quick-comic-based-off-a-scene-from-chumpasauruss)! Please check it out: it's so awesome!

Rex’s face was so _soft_.

He couldn’t stop touching it! He didn’t know what they put in that funky cream, but his face felt like a baby’s ass. And his nails were clean for once—and smooth, too! He wouldn’t be caught dead admitting where he had spent the last four hours, but hey, it hadn’t been all that bad.

If Mai ran her mouth about this, he was going to murder her.

He had been mulling over his conversation with the women both during and after the spa experience. Ishizu’s spiel about destiny had given him the heebie-jeebies; he didn’t know if he believed in that hoo-ha. If destiny was real, it had a sick sense of humor—Rex prayed, for his sanity, that it was only a myth.

He loitered in the main lounge area of the ship, patting at his pores as he sat and stewed. Did he really want to talk to Weevil again? He had already tried that, and he ended up making things worse. Besides, Weevil wasn’t the type to listen to reason: when he got into one of his obsessive moods, he wouldn’t break out of it until he achieved his goal (or, more likely, until somebody stomped on it for him).

Nor was Weevil the type to wax poetic about his emotions. If Rex were to talk about how Weevil made him _feel_ , he’d get hyo-hyo’d at. And Weevil spat when he laughed, so there’d be spittle on Rex’s newly-cleansed face, which would completely invalidate the experience he had just had—even though he was kind of already ruining it with how much he was touching his pores….

Rex bit back a groan. Ugh, this was so frustrating! Why couldn’t Weevil suck it up and apologize?

His thoughts were circling back around on themselves and getting nowhere. Couldn’t he think about something that _wasn’t_ Weevil? He could busy himself with the buffet, maybe, or he could go see if there was anybody up for casual Duels. But no—everybody would be heading to the Cecelia Cup finals right now, wouldn’t they? Including Weevil, since he’d be participating—goddamn it, Weevil again!

Rex scratched madly at his hair, as if trying to scrub the thoughts from his head. Jeez, Mai was right: he really was a pushover.

He had to do something.

If Weevil pushed him away again, fine—he’d give up. That was destiny telling him to stop fucking around and move on with his life.

But he had to try, didn’t he? He couldn’t give up on years’ worth of friendship—acquaintanceship— _whatever_ just because of one argument. He had to do better than that! Weevil didn’t give up, even when destiny all but told him to go fuck himself—so why should Rex?

He got to his feet, gait firm with purpose, then trudged towards the map. He had heard from Mai that the finals would be held in a physical Duel Ring: he needed to find where it was.

Happy Lover grinned at him knowingly.

Once he located the arena—which was pretty close to him, thank goodness—he turned sharply and started to head off.

His determination was so blinding, he hadn’t noticed that another man had also been inspecting the map—and when he walked forward, he ran smack into him, clunking both of their foreheads together.

“Ack—hey, buddy, move or get _stomped_!”

“Ow—watch it, worm!”

Rex and Weevil looked up at one another simultaneously. Apparently, Weevil knew Rex’s voice as well as he knew his.

“Damn, destiny,” Rex muttered under his breath. “Didn’t have to bargain or nothin’.” Maybe Ishizu had put a good word in for him.

Weevil’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing Rex from head to toe. “You smell weird,” were the first words out of his mouth.

“Huh?” Rex sniffed at his shoulder. His clothes still carried that vaguely tropical scent from the spa.

“It’s kind of like… what _is_ that?” Weevil scrunched his nose. “Passion fruit? Coconut? And—wait, did you get a haircut? It’s shorter….”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Rex said. He sniffed at himself again, trying to discern passion fruit from coconut (what the hell did passion fruit even smell like?), but this time his nostrils picked up a different scent. A really _bad_ scent.

He glanced at Weevil. The guy didn’t look too hot—his hair was matted and messy, while black bags hung heavy under his eyes. He was still in the same green, high-collared jacket he had been wearing four days ago, though it was wrinkled and stained.

Weevil caught his troubled look and quickly hid his face. “Shut up, dino-breath!”

“I didn’t say anythin’.”

“I know I look disheveled—some tyrannical twat locked me out of the room with all of my clothes.”

“Is that what you’ve been telling people?” Rex sagged. Great, that was _exactly_ the kind of self-image he wanted to promote. “Ya could’ve come back to the room whenever ya wanted. The door was unlocked.”

“Not that I would’ve wanted them back, anyway. You’ve probably done something to them, haven’t you?”

“Why the hell would I do that?”

“Revenge,” Weevil said earnestly.

Rex rolled his eyes. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but I got better things to do than sit around all day and plot some dumb revenge scheme. I don’t think about’cha that much.” A lie.

Rex’s comment seemed to perk Weevil up, but for the wrong reasons. “Right—I’m sure you’ve been very busy these past few days, haven’t you? Hyo-hyo—like pigging yourself out on ice cream at the buffet for twelve hours.”

Why did everyone know about that? Note to self: be more discrete when eating publicly.

“I’ve been having a blast,” Rex grumbled, picking at his rounded nails. “Nothing beats being on a couples’ cruise alone.”

“ _I’ve_ been having a lot of fun, too. I’ve been coming up with ways to demolish Mai Valentine at the Cecelia Cup finals.” He snickered: “Hee-hee, my victory is guaranteed—though I couldn’t have gotten this far without my _partner_.”

Rex surveyed his surroundings. “Where is she, by the way? I would’ve thought she’d’ve been with ya.”

“That’s none of your beeswax,” Weevil snapped. He must have struck a nerve. “She’ll be at the arena. Hopefully. No, _certainly_.”

Weevil’s bowtie was missing, Rex noticed: maybe he had given up trying to straighten it on such a wrinkled undershirt. He looked less uptight without it. Rex kind of liked the casual vibe he was getting, even if the stench was a downer.

“Ya think ya have a chance?” he asked.

“Of course I do! Mai Valentine is a one-trick pony: eliminate her harpies, and she has nothing left! A Burning Land will be able to wipe out her Harpies Hunting Ground, and without that, they’re useless!”

“What about Ishizu?”

“Gravekeepers are annoying, but they’re not impossible to beat. All I have to do is make sure to destroy her monsters the turn they’re Summoned so she doesn’t have the chance to Tribute Summon Gravekeeper’s Oracle.” Weevil rubbed at his chin in thought. “Rebecca can usually get her Luster Dragons out in a couple of turns, so that should be enough to deal with them.”

Rex tilted his head. “You’ve been at this a lot, haven’t’cha?”

“What else am I supposed to do? Go to the spa?”

Rex coughed.

“Besides, what I do with my time is none of your concern. In case you’ve forgotten, we’re not acquainted anymore.” Weevil squinted at him. “I don’t even know why I’m talking to you.”

“I know what ya mean,” Rex mumbled. This was stupid. _He_ was stupid. Weevil wasn’t going to budge on this—he was determined to win, and he would do anything in his power to do so. Rex hadn’t been on the receiving end of that competitive spirit in a long time; he had forgotten what it felt like to be squashed by Weevil Underwood.

“Good luck,” he finally said.

Weevil startled at that. “What?”

“I hope you win.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m sad that I can’t win with ya, but if this is how it’s gonna be—fine. I want ya to kick Mai off her high horse and win this tournament.”

Weevil’s jaw fell, dumbly.

“If you’re gonna put me through all of this pain and misery and stupidity—of being on this boat, of pretendin’ to like ya, of ruinin’ our entire history together—the very least you could do for me is _win_ , so I can look back on this and say, ‘Hey, that totally sucked, but at least somethin’ good came outta it.’” Rex’s lips pulled back somewhere in between a snarl and a grin. “Ya got that, Underwood?”

It took Weevil a few seconds to collect himself. His cheeks had bled pink. “I-if I win— _when_ I win—I won’t be doing it for you! This is all for me!”

There was that grit Rex admired so much. God, was it annoying.

“You play for what matters most to you,” he said, “and I’ll cheer for what matters most to me, okay?”

Weevil gawped at him. It looked like he was trying to say something, but his words weren’t cooperating.

Rex looked up, past the Happy Lover, at the holographic clock on the ceiling. “Doesn’t the Duel start in, like, twenty minutes? Shouldn’t ya go warm up?”

“H-huh?” Weevil followed his line of sight. “What time is it—oh, crap!”

He scampered off before Rex could get another melodramatic word in.

 

***

 

Even though he felt that his point had been eloquently made, Rex still felt the need to attend the Duel. Call it his naturally curious personality.

The arena was familiar to him—large, open-faced, with a surrounding stadium that was already crammed full of an eager audience. It reminded him of the field he Dueled on during his National Championship game. This was how real Duel Monsters was played—tables were for wimps.

The Duel was scheduled to start in five minutes. He needed to find a seat—jeez, the stadium was totally full! Where was he supposed to sit—?

“ _Oi_! _Rex Raptor_!”

Rex craned his head towards the voice. There, in the front third row of the stadium, was a grinning Mako Tsunami—and, sitting next to him in a matching pink Hawaiian-printed shirt (barf), was a waving Espa Roba. There was an open seat to Mako’s right.

Rex made a beeline for the two of them.

“You came!” Mako said as soon as Rex was in non-yelling earshot. “That is a very kind and mature thing for you to do!”

Espa chortled. “Yeah, who are you even cheering for? One team kicked you out of the tournament and made you break-up with your boyfriend, and the other team _is_ your ex-boyfriend.”

Rex took the seat next to Mako. Since when was he chummy with these guys? They probably just felt bad for him. But hey, if this is what it got him, maybe he should pretend to be in a relationship and break-up more often.

“I’m rootin’ for the underdog,” he said.

“Seriously? After everything he did to you?” Espa asked.

Rex shrugged. “Somebody’s gotta.”

“Then we shall cheer for him, too!” Mako said, crossing his arms over his chest. “How impressive! If the power of Rex’s love does not ignite a fire within you, what can?”

“It’s not love; it’s stupidity,” Espa said.

It might have been a bit of both.

Before Mako or Espa could say anything else, the lights in the stadium dimmed, and the halogens above the Duel Ring field sparked to life. The crowd erupted into hollers.

On the end of the field closest to Rex, he saw Mai and Ishizu (looking as glimmery as ever thanks to the spa treatment) approach their separate Dueling apparatuses. Once they set their decks down on the machine, it whirred, then elevated them up at least thirty feet into the air to view the giant field in full.

Mai, nearest to him, looked out into the crowd. Miraculously, out of everybody in the stadium, her gaze passed over Rex. She blinked, seeming surprised, before a quiet smile settled on her face.

Mako bumped Rex’s side. “Is she looking at you? I did not think you two were on good terms.”

“We’re not,” Rex said.

Mai winked at him and gave him a thumbs-up.

“Are you in cahoots?” Espa whispered to him.

“No, of course not! I don’t know what she’s doin’!” Seriously, they weren’t friends. What the hell, Mai…!

“Maybe she is signaling to him,” Mako suggested.

“Yeah. Like, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll pulverize that jerk for you!’ Or something.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” Rex muttered. It was definitely a signal, but he didn’t know for what. A lousy signal….

By the time he looked over to the other side of the Duel Ring, he saw that Weevil, closest to him, and Rebecca were also already elevated above the field. Weevil caught Mai’s wink and traced her line of sight—all the way to Rex.

The look on his face was priceless.

“I shall begin,” Ishizu said loudly enough for the entire stadium to hear, then Set two cards on the field.

 

***

 

“By the sea,” Mako gasped, “I can’t believe he’s _winning_.”

Neither could Rex.

The instant Mai had activated Harpies’ Hunting Ground, Weevil had been ready to counter with Burning Land, destroying it. Not only that, but he had added new cards Rex had never seen him use to his deck—such as Attack and Receive, which activated whenever he took damage from Burning Land to do 700 damage to Mai, plus 300 for each Attack and Receive in the Graveyard.

Bastard was playing a burn deck.

“I thought cards that did direct damage were banned in Industrial Illusions tournaments,” Espa whispered into Mako’s ear.

“I believe that is KaibaCorp’s rule.”

“Still, it’s pretty skeevy.”

“That I will not deny.”

Rebecca was also faring better than Rex had expected. She had cards to help burn Mai and Ishizu out, too, such as Fire Princess—which did 500 damage to the opponents’ Life Points each time Weevil healed with Skull-Mark Ladybug or Goblin Thief. She was mainly running a rush-dragon deck, and currently had two Luster Dragons and Luster Dragon Number Two twinkling on the field in front of her.

“Luster Dragon Number Two, attack Ishizu’s face down card!” she shouted with a flourish of her hand.

The pearly dragon lifted its head, blew a hot breath through its snout, and then fired a beam of pure white light from its mouth. Rex briefly saw the image of Gravekeeper’s Recruiter appear on the field before it was swallowed by the light.

“My monster’s effect activates.” Ishizu reached for her deck and fanned out the cards. “When Gravekeeper’s Recruiter is sent to the Graveyard, I am allowed to add one Gravekeeper’s monster with 1500 or less Defense Points to my hand. I choose to add Gravekeeper’s Oracle.” She showed the card to her opponents, then slipped it into her hand.

“Squirm all you like,” Weevil taunted, face twisted in glee. “Even if you manage to Summon your Oracle, it won’t be enough to free you from my web! My Grasschopper is going to devour you whole!”

“Don’t get cocky,” Rex murmured under his breath.

“He has no right to be acting superior,” Espa agreed. “He built his deck entirely around countering Mai and Ishizu rather than playing the cards he knows. He can’t expect to win like this.”

“My turn,” Mai said. For somebody with only 2000 Life Points remaining, she didn’t look that concerned—more nonchalant, really.

“Hee-hee—you know what the top card of your deck is, don’t you?” Weevil cackled into the palm of his hand. “Due to Parasite Paracide’s flip effect and Jade Insect Whistle—”

“—When I draw Paracide Parasite, I have to Summon it in Defense Position,” Mai said, then did so.

The vermin materialized on the field, clacking its teeth.

“Don’t bother explaining its effect to me: it deals 1000 damage and turns all of my monsters into insects,” Mai said, sounding bored.

“Something’s up with her,” Rex said to himself.

Mako and Espa both leaned in towards him. Snooping, apparently.

“She is not playing her best,” Mako said with a nod. “Perhaps luck is not on her side.”

“Her partner is playing just as badly,” said Espa. “She made some pretty rookie mistakes: she only had Gravekeeper’s Priestess out when there was already a Field Spell—Harpies’ Hunting Ground—on her side of the field, then Tributed it as soon as Weevil played Burning Land. Why would you destroy your advantage like that?”

“Maybe she is a new player,” Mako proposed.

Espa shook his head. “It’s fishy.”

“Fishy?” Mako repeated with a tiny smile.

“Yeah, there’s blood in the water.”

“Water?”

“Yeah, a shark in the kiddie pool—”

“Do you two mind?” Rex growled.

“I Set one monster face down and end my turn,” said Mai.

Weevil burst into even more frenzied laughter.

“Really? _Really_?” His laughter was so high, so hysterical, he sounded like a dying parrot on helium. “Is this really the best fight the great Mai Valentine can put up? I’m disappointed! Here I was, thinking you were going to be a challenge—yet you’ve just sealed my victory!”

“You tell her, honey!” Rebecca cheered.

Mai beckoned for him with a finger. “If you’re so confident, then end this game,” she said.

“I will! Gladly!” Weevil drew a card—his turn. “Hee-hee, are you ready to be squished?”

Mai yawned, comically loud. “I’m waiting.”

“Nngh—don’t mock me!” Weevil pounded his fist on his Dueling machine. “I’m going to make you pay for all the humiliation you and all of your stupid friends have put me through for all these years! I activate the Equip Spell—Big Bang Shot!”

“There he goes with the burn damage again,” Espa muttered.

“Big Bang Shot?” Rex scratched under his beanie. “I didn’t know he had that card. He pulled out every dirty trick in the book, didn’t he?” He was certain it wasn’t a proxy; Weevil had a big card collection, he just tended to limit himself to insect-themed cards.

“When Big Bang Shot is equipped to my Grasschopper, it gains 400 Attack Points,” Weevil said. “And, when it attacks a Defense Position monster, it inflicts piercing damage!”

Grasschopper’s hologram on the field shrieked and rubbed its front limbs together, spoiling for a fight.

“If he attacks Paracide Parasite on Mai’s side of the field, he can win the game,” Rex breathed.

“Do you really think that’s going to work?” Mai laughed. “Go on—attack me!”

“You can’t weasel your way out of this one! Neither of you have any Set cards on the field—there’s nothing you can do to stop me!” Weevil’s laughter came shallow and rough. “Hee-hee, don’t you get it? I’ve _won_!”

“Then attack,” Mai urged.

“I did it! I defeated Mai Valentine! Hee-hee-hee, I finally _did_ it!”

“She has to have a plan,” Espa whispered as he tapped his index finger on his crossed arm. “She wouldn’t be acting so confident if she didn’t.”

“He won,” Rex said.

Holy shit, he’d actually done it.

“Mai and Ishizu don’t run any cards that can be activated from their hand on another player’s turn,” he went on. He leaned forward, holding his head up on his folded hands and bouncing his leg as he watched. “If neither of them have any Traps or Spells on the field, then he’s right—he won. There’s nothing they can do to stop his attack.”

“You see?” Weevil was crying, his eyes manic. “I don’t need anybody else! I don’t need friends! I’m better off without him!”

Him.

That was a slip-of-the-tongue, but Weevil didn’t seem to notice that he had said it.

Rex’s leg kept jiggling as the words coiled in his mind: maybe Weevil had a point. He had managed to climb the ranks of the entire competition and go head-to-head against Mai Valentine, _and win_ , without him. This was the first time Weevil had come near victory since Rex had started hanging out with him.

Was it Rex who was holding him back? Damn, he really was useless, wasn’t he?

He was so absorbed in his thoughts, it took him a couple of moments to realize that Weevil had stopped laughing.

“Hey, is he all right?” Espa asked, head tilting. “He was so happy a minute ago.”

Weevil’s smug expression had given way into an anguished frown. He had doubled over, fingers to his lips and gnawing violently at his nails, and his eyebrows had knotted into a fierce shape. Rex couldn’t hear him, but he could see him mouthing the words “oh god, oh god” over and over again beneath his breath.

“What’s he doing?” he asked himself. He looked over to Mai and Ishizu—both were as blasé as ever. It couldn’t be they who had Weevil freaking out.

Rex heard murmuring shoot through the crowd.

“What’s with him?”

“He looks sick.”

“He’s a coward, that’s all!”

“I knew he couldn’t take down Mai Valentine!”

Rex wanted to punch each of them separately.

“Weeves?” Rebecca called to him, blinking her big, blue eyes. “What’s wrong? Let’s end this Duel already!”

Weevil slowly lifted his head to look at her. He held her gaze for a few wavering seconds, before he turned to scan over the anxious crowd.

“What are ya doing, ya idiot?” Rex’s hands balled into fists against his knees. “Don’t lose your nerve now! Ya got this in the bag! End it!”

Weevil’s eyes fell on him.

Rex froze. Fuck, had he been able to hear him? No way, right?

Weevil swallowed a lump in his throat. Rex saw a bead of sweat roll down his temple, down his face, over his chin.

“I can’t,” he finally said.

Rex wondered if he was talking to him.

“Whaddya mean, you can’t?” he said in response. “You hafta! Ya can’t come all this way just to chicken out!”

“I can’t,” he said again. “I _can’t_!”

“What’s the matter, Weeves?” Rebecca asked.

Weevil turned back to the playing field, then—with limbs heavy and eyes obscured—set his hand on the top of his deck.

“I surrender,” he said.

Rex heard Mai let out a loud, “Oh, thank _god_ ,” before the entire stadium erupted into chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oohhhh SNAP, HE WIMPED OUT!! But why? Tune in tomorrow to find out! (you probably know already)  
> Sorry about the copious amounts of duels in this fic, yeesh. I don't know how to play Yu-Gi-Oh very well, so I kind of had to take some, uh, creative liberties. I don't know if burn is that big a deal in old YGO meta -- I know it's annoying as balls in Duel Links, though. I hope the duels are at least somewhat bearable...? 
> 
> I guess this is the climax. Next chapter is the last one! I'm sad this week is already almost over... I want to keep writing and reading about these two!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!!


	7. Favorite Scene

“Evacuated” was too strong a word, but Rex couldn’t think of another: after the Duel’s anticlimactic conclusion, the audience became so rowdy, official ushers had to step in to ask everyone to leave and return to the lobby and their cruise. Rex could hear the jeering and sneering echoing from all around him.

“I can’t believe this! He had her on the ropes, and he let her get away?”

“No way, Mai Valentine would never lose to that nobody! She was just toying with him!”

“Do you think she threw the game on purpose? Maybe they had some sort of deal!”

Rex tugged viciously at his bangs, trying not to let the words eat at him.

“I’m so confused,” Espa was saying to Mako, making Rex’s attempts to filter out the noise all the more difficult.

“He appeared to be in distress. I am curious as well, but I do not think it is my right to interfere.”

Mako clapped Rex hard on the shoulder (heavy hands, jeez!), causing him to startle and yelp, “What the hell, dude?!”

“It is not _my_ right to interfere,” Mako reiterated, face stern.

Rex got the signal.

“Why can’t people stay out of my goddamn business,” Rex mumbled. With a half-hearted wave farewell, he parted from the pair and forged onward into the crowd—

—Only to run smack into a pair of tits.

Rex’s height often lent itself to problematic circumstances, though unfortunately, they weren’t often the ones of the pervy anime variety. If the situation had been less dire, he probably could’ve appreciated it better.

When he pulled away from the boobs’ warm embrace, a hasty string of apologies already forming on his lips, he realized that the tits belonged to one Ishizu Ishtar. And then he felt even worse.

“Oh, god—!” Rex leapt back, face going bright red. “Jeez, I didn’t mean—I didn’t see you there, I mean—I’m—oh god, I’m sorry—”

Ishizu didn’t look in the least bit perturbed. She regarded him with the same stoic, rock-like expression as she always did. That didn’t really make Rex feel better.

“I do hope you’re planning on going after him,” Ishizu said.

Oh, good, more Weevil. Didn’t anybody want to talk about anything else?

“Congratulations on winning,” Rex said, avoiding the question—because Ishizu had done enough, thanks. Really.

“It was a victory foretold by my own destiny, as Mr. Underwood’s loss was foretold by his.” Ishizu broke eye-contact from him and looked into the crowd. “So it would appear.”

“But, uh, Weevil surrendered,” Rex pointed out. “You two were playin’ real shittily. If he hadn’t surrendered, you two would’ve lost for real.”

“But he surrendered, and we did not lose.”

“Yeah, I know, but—”

“There is no use in dwelling on ‘what-ifs’ and ‘could’ve-beens,’” Ishizu said, raising her voice to cut Rex off. “Mr. Underwood chose to surrender. He made that bargain, that prayer, unbeknownst to Mai or me until the moment it occurred. It happened, so thus, it is, and nothing can change that.”

Rex rubbed at his forehead. He had no idea how to talk to this chick.

“However, despite our not knowing of that prayer before its utterance, it would be untrue to say that one versed in destiny—and one versed in the hearts of Mr. Underwood and his friend—could not levy an accurate prediction of the course of events that were to take place.”

Rex tried following along to Ishizu’s words, to little avail. “You, uh… what?” Prediction, huh? Like cheating? Like Mai had done in Duelist Kingdom? Or maybe it wasn’t that overt. “You knew what he was gonna do?”

“We made a prediction,” said Ishizu. “A prediction that, even when handed victory, Mr. Underwood would not be able to win in his current state.”

They had thrown the game. Fuck, Weevil would’ve been _pissed_.

“Then, for your sake, perhaps it would be wise not to tell him.”

Rex jolted. Whoa, wait, he hadn’t said that out loud, had he? Yeesh, was this woman a mind reader? Another friggin’ psychic—yeah, Mai had a real catch here, all right.

“You have a very animated face,” Ishizu said with a tap at her nose.

“Is there a reason you’re telling me all this?” Rex asked, his brow twitching.

“Not really.”

“Great, thanks.”

“I simply felt it just that you know, lest you find yourself wondering in the future. Mai did not agree with this decision. Perhaps she is in the right, for she knows you better than I—however, I cannot ignore what my heart tells me to do.”

He kind of knew what she meant—Rex never listened to anything besides his gut. His brain was useless most of the time.

He stood on his tiptoes to try looking over Ishizu. “And Mai—?”

Without even turning around, Ishizu pointed a finger over her shoulder. Rex followed it: Mai was a good distance away, lingering near where they had been funneled into the lobby. On the floor next to her, crying, was Rebecca.

“Oh, shit.” Rex wondered if he was supposed to feel bad for her. Probably—but for some reason, he couldn’t muster the kindness.

“Her destiny was unfairly intertwined with yours,” Ishizu said gravely. “A destiny in green by envy leaves behind victims other than yourselves. Recognize this.”

“Uh.”

Mai knelt down to pat Rebecca on the back. It didn’t look like it did much—Rebecca was still sobbing her brains out. Rex couldn’t tell if she was sad or pissed off: her face was cherry-red and her mumbled, unintelligible words were vicious. Maybe she was both.

“Recognize this, learn from this, and move on. And please—if you have any respect for those around you—try not to do this again.”

“Do _what_ again?” It wasn’t his fault Weevil had hooked up with some stupid chick! Why was he the one being yelled at? Where was Weevil’s spa treatment and ninety-minute lecture on destiny and emotions, huh?

By the time he turned back to Ishizu to give her a piece of his mind, she had already vanished—wisped into nothingness, like a ghost returning to its haunt. Rex had his doubts that she was even corporeal: if he ever saw Mai Valentine again, he had to ask where the hell they had met.

Well, now that that was out of the way, back to the important stuff: if he were Weevil Underwood, where would he go after a devastating and humiliating defeat?

Personally, Rex would hit up the closest source of food (AKA the buffet) and stuff himself until the calories outweighed his pain, but Weevil wasn’t so simple. Would he return to the scene of the crime? Their room? Where had he been sleeping the past few nights, anyway?

Rex took a glance at the map of the boat, hoping that the specs would give him some sort of idea. They didn’t.

Happy Lover grinned at him.

That stupid fucking Happy Lover mascot, with its stupid fucking pink wings and stupid fucking heart-shaped forehead. Rex wanted to strangle it. Who _ran_ Happy Lover, anyway? He used to see dumb girls playing it and other useless “cute” monsters back in the pre-Duelist Kingdom days, but now, even _they_ knew better than to run fan decks….

Wait.

Duelist Kingdom.

Rex’s eyes narrowed at the mascot: Happy Lover gave him an idea.

 

***

 

Rex found Weevil on the outer deck of the ship.

His chin rested on his hands clasped over the guardrail while he gazed into the dark ocean below. His countenance was soft, though Rex could barely see his face; the light on-deck was dim, and the moon, though brilliant, did nothing but reflect off Weevil’s glasses and veil his eyes from view.

Rex approached him on cautious footing. He didn’t want to spook him and start up on yet another wild goose chase. He arrived at the guardrail and slipped his hands over it, falling into the space next to him.

Weevil didn’t look up, even though he had to have known he was there.

Rex cleared his throat and waited for him to say something.

“Have I ever told you about the time I threw Yugi Muto’s Exodia cards into the ocean?”

Bingo—that exact memory was how Rex had known where Weevil would be.

“You bring it up all the time,” he said, treading carefully.

“I was a moron.”

Rex hadn’t expected him to say that. “Huh? I thought ya were super proud of that.”

“It was a stupid thing to do.” Weevil’s voice was shaky, Rex realized—like it was close to breaking. “I had been laboring over strategies on how to defeat those cards _constantly_ in the days leading up to Duelist Kingdom. I was desperate. I didn’t want to lose—I _couldn’t_ lose. I was National Champion, and I had to defend my title. I couldn’t let some nobody with some rare cards beat me and take away the one thing I had going.”

When Weevil usually told this story, he told it with ardor: his eyes would alight with mean pleasure, and his laughter would roll hot and shallow from the top of his throat. Rex had heard the story too many times to count, but he had never grown sick of it.

“When he let me see the Exodia pieces, I couldn’t believe it,” Weevil continued, still facing the ocean. “Those little pieces of expensive cardboard were my greatest fear, and he just… _handed_ them to me. Like an idiot. But, as I held them, I kept thinking about that fear—of how I would, almost certainly, be defeated by those cards. That I’d lose Duelist Kingdom and go back to being a nobody. So I threw them into the ocean.”

Rex sucked in a deep breath. Sea-salt air filled his lungs, cleansing them. “You spared everybody in that tourney a lotta heartache. Don’tcha think that was the right thing to do?”

“Of course it wasn’t!” Weevil squeaked. He tapped his foot against the wood-paneled deck. “I relive that night every day of my life. Why didn’t I keep the Exodia cards for myself? Then I could’ve been unstoppable. Why didn’t I try to convince Yugi to trade them to me, or to not use them in the competition? If I hadn’t pissed him and Wheeler off, I might have kept my dignity—but _no_. Because of that one stupid-ass decision, I lost everything: I lost Duelist Kingdom, Battle City, the KaibaCup—I even lost my _soul_ , multiple times, all because I threw some stupid pieces of cardboard off of a stupid boat—!”

“Take it easy,” Rex said. He reached out with his hand and, without looking at him, ventured a ginger pat on Weevil’s back. Weevil didn’t seem to mind—hell, he didn’t seem to notice.

“And tonight! I was so close to winning some of that dignity back! And I screwed it up like I always do!”

“You didn’t—you didn’t screw it up,” Rex tried, despite knowing that… yeah, Weevil _had_ kind of given up on a guaranteed victory. He continued rubbing Weevil’s back, hoping that it was helping him calm down in even a minor way.

“Don’t lie to me,” Weevil snapped. “You know it, Mai knows it, _everybody_ knows it.”

He went quiet.

“Well? Aren’t you going to ask me _why_?”

Rex’s eye shut in a wince. Of course he wanted to know why: why had Weevil given up on victory and invalidated all the pain they had gone through on this dumb boat? He was deathly curious.

Maybe this was some kind of test. Rex wasn’t a very good test-taker. “Umm. Wh-why?”

Weevil pulled back from the rail to look Rex in the face. His eyes were glassy, his lips gray, his shoulders limp.

“Having dignity doesn’t matter if you’re not trying to prove it to someone,” he said.

Rex raised an eyebrow.

“Why do I play Duel Monsters?” Weevil asked, his hands rhythm to his words. “Why do I keep entering these dumb competitions when I know that I’ll never be the best? It’s because I want to prove myself—but to who? The world? The King of Games? No—no, it’s smaller than that! It always is!”

“You’re gettin’ kinda, uh, worked up about this,” Rex said as he noticed Weevil’s cheeks burn, even in the dim lighting.

“It’s always about proving myself to my _opponent_. During a Duel, crushing your opponent should be the only thing on your mind. That’s how I was able to win the National Championships—because all I could think about was destroying you!

“But then—after that, it wasn’t the same. Instead of thinking about my opponent, I could only think of—of how I compared to people like Yugi Muto and Joey Wheeler. And then—and then there’s you! There’s always _you_!”

“…Me?”

“Ever since the National Championships, there’s been you!” Weevil gripped the guardrail so tightly, his knuckles whitened into the color of bone. “Rex Raptor at Battle City, Rex Raptor in Domino, Rex Raptor in my cell phone contacts and my email and Rex Raptor waving and smiling and always being _around_ and—it’s insufferable!”

“I didn’t realize you hated our friendship that much,” Rex said, sulking.

“You’re always there! And I chose to enter this tournament with you because—because….” Weevil’s lip quivered as he squirmed for words. “…Because you’re _you_. And when we lost against Mai, I got so angry—so _scared_ , just like when I had the Exodia cards in my hand—so I said that I didn’t want to see you again. And the more I thought about how I lost because of you— _with_ you—the angrier I got. So I found Rebecca and re-entered the tournament, and during every single fucking match, I couldn’t think about my opponent—all I could think about was _you_ , and how I was Dueling to prove myself to _you_ , because you’re _there_ and you’re _you_ and you’re the only person I have—and when I had victory right there, I couldn’t think about Mai or Rebecca or anybody besides Rex Raptor, and how Rex Raptor should’ve been the one Dueling with me because Rex Raptor is _always there_ , and how I wasn’t Dueling for myself or for Mai or for the game, but for _him_ , because he’s the only thing that’s kept me Dueling for this long—and I kept thinking about how I told him that I never wanted to see him again, and how this trip has been one giant fuck-up after another, and I couldn’t win like that—because if I didn’t have Rex Raptor, then there was nobody to win _for_ , and I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t _win_ —”

“H-hold on,” Rex interrupted with a pat on the air in front of him, allowing Weevil to take a much-needed breath. “Slow down for a sec. You—you were Dueling for me?”

Weevil grinded his teeth together. “ _Because_ of you.”

“You’re serious?”

“Why would I make something like this up?!”

“I-I dunno!” Rex scratched the back of his head. The sea breeze stirred up his hair, and the humidity was fattening and frizzing his curls. He was sure he looked as ridiculous as he felt. “I just, umm… it’s kinda hard to believe. You’ve always been super motivated—I don’t really think I got anythin’ to do with it.”

Weevil folded his arms together. Rex wondered if the ocean spray was making him cold. “You haven’t always. I can’t pinpoint the day it happened, but now it’s just—normal. It’s all I can think about, and it pisses me off.”

“But I don’t get it,” Rex said. “You got nothin’ to prove to me.”

“I have everything to prove!”

“Not really. I mean, you’re already the better Duelist than me. And I already respect ya, too.” Rex hummed a note. “It’s funny—I was just talkin’ about how much I liked your Weevil-y cravin’ for winnin’, and how that’s what kept me goin’ all this time, too. I was embarrassed to admit it, ’cuz—well, you’re so good at Duelin’ and all, I didn’t think ya needed me. But now you’re sayin’ that _I’m_ the one who makes you all Weevil-y—and that you’re embarrassed, too! That’s kinda crazy.”

Weevil’s hostile look waned. “I’m not embarrassed,” he murmured, averting eye-contact.

“Sure y’ain’t,” Rex said with a toothy smile. “But, uh—I guess if we both feel this way about each other, there’s nothin’ to be embarrassed about, right? Because we’re the same.”

Weevil’s gaze eventually returned. He searched Rex’s face, though he didn’t know for what.

“The same?” he parroted.

“I think? You were talkin’ kinda fast there, but I think I got the main gist….”

Weevil looked like he wanted to say something else, but his tiny bug-brain wasn’t working with him. His mouth only flapped open and closed, uselessly.

Rex didn’t know what to say, either. This conversation had gone a lot smoother than he had expected. Thanks, destiny.

He let silence develop between them. He looked out into the ocean below and beyond: the moon reflected off the waves, and the stars finger-painted shapes in the sky.

“I’m sorry,” Weevil mumbled, so low that Rex could barely hear him.

“Me too,” Rex said. “I said some nasty things about’cha.”

“They were all true.”

“I guess. Doesn’t mean I should’ve said ’em.”

“I caused it. I made another stupid decision. I need to stop doing that.”

“Everybody gets angry,” said Rex. “Everybody gets scared, too.”

Out of the corner of his vision, he saw Weevil shift from foot-to-foot beside him.

“I’m going to make another stupid decision,” he said.

Rex snorted at him. “Yeah, ’course ya will. At least you’re being honest about it.”

“I meant as in, I’m going to make a stupid decision right now.”

Rex turned to face him. “Whaddya mean by—”

Before he could finish the question, Weevil grabbed a fistful of hair on either side of Rex’s head, yanked him down to his level, and crushed their lips together.

It was like kissing a charging _Tyrannosaurus_ : Weevil came at him hard and rough, and with a whole hell of a lot of teeth. Rex reached for Weevil’s hair—it was soft, but greasy from his lack of hygiene. He didn’t taste so good for the same reasons, though it was difficult to concentrate on that because holy fucking shit Weevil was kissing him wait what wait _WHAT_ —

It didn’t last long; Weevil pulled away and quickly put a few feet of distance in between them. He had a hand slapped over his mouth, partially hiding his blush.

“You taste weird,” he said. “It’s—it’s that coconut smell again! Do you wear lipstick? What the hell?”

Rex loosely recalled having something applied to his lips during his spa outing, but only loosely—his mind, for the most part, had been reduced to goo.

Weevil’s fingers curled as he lowered his hand. He licked his lips, as if trying to taste the flavor again. “Hmm. It wasn’t that bad, was it? If I had kissed you to begin with, this whole thing wouldn’t have been so ridiculous. Maybe we would’ve won that Duel. No, who am I kidding, probably not.”

“Y-y-you—?” Rex couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even _think_ in anything that wasn’t rapid-fire images—of kissing Weevil, of Mai winking, of Happy Lover, of more Weevil, Weevil, Weevil….

“Well, that ends that conversation.” Weevil pushed up his glasses. “Let’s never speak about this tournament again, shall we?”

“Y-you—k-k-kiss—c-can’t—”

“If anybody tries asking about this, let’s say we were never here. It was clones. Dark magic. Something. It’s easier than explaining—”

Rex bridged the gap between them and kissed Weevil again.

He felt Weevil complain against his lips, but Rex swallowed it whole. He cupped Weevil’s face, then ran his hands up through his hair, down his back, to his waist and his hips, touching and mapping and memorizing as much as he could in the little time he had.

In another few seconds, Weevil set his hands on Rex’s chest and gently pushed him away. Rex broke the kiss but kept close, resting his hands on the jut of Weevil’s hips and brushing his nose against the bug-shaped bridge of his glasses.

“What are you doing?” Weevil asked, breathless.

“I could say the same to you,” Rex said.

Weevil stared at him, his big eyes twinkling in the moonlight. “I told you, it was a stupid decision.”

“I don’t think it was stupid. Then again, I don’t think you throwin’ those Exodia cards into the ocean was a stupid decision, either.”

Weevil looked away. Rex could feel him growing hot against him.

“I toldja earlier,” Rex smirked, “I think it’s kinda sexy.”

“Y-you know,” Weevil stuttered, not bothering to move away, “I-I think there’s, umm, other competitions on the boat.”

Rex’s face fell. “Is that seriously what we’re talkin’ about? Now?”

“L-like, umm, you know—other couples’ tourneys. I read something about dancing and limbo and whatever the hell Dungeon Dice Monsters is—stuff like that.”

“What are you—oh.” The implication dawned on him.

Did he want to go through all of that again? All of that pain, misery, and stupidity? Ishizu’s words rang in his mind: “ _If you have any respect for those around you—try not to do this again_.”

But it was Weevil. So yes, what a dumb question—of _course_ he wanted to. It was all for Weevil, it always was, so of course, of course, of course.

“We’d have to pretend to be a couple, wouldn’t we?” Rex asked, voice barely a whisper.

Weevil’s hands, having been balled against Rex’s chest, slid down to remove his wrists from his hips. Just as Rex was about to stammer out an apology (something along the lines of “oh god, I fucked up, didn’t I”), he slipped their fingers together and squeezed.

“Yes,” he said, “pretend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end!!! (I hope that was satisfying enough aaaaaahahaha umm)
> 
> My favorite scene in *all* of Yu-Gi-Oh is when sweet, stupid little Yugi hands his million-dollar cards over to this Very Obviously Evil Child and then acts surprised when that Very Obviously Evil Child says "SAY GOOD-BYE TO EXODIA" and tosses them into the ocean. Really, what were you expecting, kiddo?
> 
> Thanks for joining me on this seven-day adventure, guys! Shrimpshipping week has been a total blast -- I've had such a fun time talking to you all and reading/seeing all of the fics and art everybody made! I hope you all enjoyed yourselves, too! I hope to do this again sometime!
> 
> I reiterate, pathetically, that my tumblr is [chumpasaurus](http://chumpasaurus.tumblr.com/), if you ever wanted to hit me up about shrimps or YGO or Duel Links or something. I'm always around!
> 
> Once again, thank you so much for sticking with me and reading through all of this! I'm so appreciative of it -- beyond words, truly. Thank you so, so much!


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